Nobody's Rogue but Mine
by butterfly53
Summary: Logan's POV from the original fanfic "More Than a Rogue" by September, on WRFA. Permission obtained.   Rogue runs away from the Mansion, Logan is called to find her.  The rough road he takes reflects his own demons before he can truely help her.
1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue**_

I had to get away for a while, a bike, some good weather, and quiet. I was feeling trapped. I live alone, not sandwiched between walls and a ceiling. And all those things took a second place to the truth. I want things that I shouldn't, that I have no right to even think about. There aren't any distractions anymore, nothing to divert the animal, to keep him laying low. The wolverine is selfish, taking what it wants, making it a need, part of survival, the drive to conquer and establish what should be his.

Wandering aimlessly, trying to link parts of what I know of my past to something tangible, one solitary object, that bring back all the memories, bring back everything I have lost of myself. I had spent fifteen years not being more than just a glance in someone else's memory, I couldn't tell you how many women or fights or nights leaning over a bar there had been,but I can tell you there was no meaning, no epic journey, and there damn sure weren't any answers. I existed, even if it was just for me for a while. I lived on my own terms, made my own way. There will be a day I think I will want to stop searching about my past, when I felt I have done enough in this remembered life time to make up for what I don't know. Underneath, there may be a part that doesn't want to pieces to fit together, the picture of the past maybe a thousand words of pain and anguish caused by my own two hands. But then, there she was. I could smell the fear of not knowing where to go next, hunger, running away without seeing an end, she was so young. No one should feel that way, and it was in her eyes, if you looked deep into to them.

I wasn't running from what was- the way lives end just as they get under your skin. No, there was more to it than that. There is reasoning behind hate and fear. There is reasoning behind obligation. I'm not sure where I fit within the world of the X-men. I fear losing my friends, yet I feel obligated to look out for them and I hate feeling as if with just one slip, one mistake on my part, I will lose them all.

I put myself into this mess. Nothing and no one is forcing me to stay connected to the do-gooders, saving the world from whatever it is that's ailing it, maybe even saving a few of them from themselves. I guess it gives everything I hated about myself a reason to exist. I looked out for her, trained her, taught her everything I knew to protect herself. I watched her from the shadows, believing she needed to live her life without interference from the animal inside me. The Wolverine is selfish; taking what it wants, making it a need, part of survival, the drive to conquer and claim what should be his. Keeping the promise to protect meant fighting that instinct. It meant denying what every urge inside wanted to covet. I would leave when I could no longer control it, needing time and distance to tame the wild, feral beast. So to keep that promise, I left. I needed a break. That's all. She looked as if she was controlling her life, like she was happy. I never knew why she stayed. She took the cure, graduated; she could have moved on. Maybe she wanted to help the school that gave her a home, return the favor.

I thought she liked her life, but I was wrong…..


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter one The invisible tie that binds**_

It was vibrating against the table next to the bed, and that ring, I hate that ring, it's never about anything good.

"Logan, she left. She didn't say anything about where she was going…"

"Who left… what is this about? This better be good," I could have enjoyed another hour of sleeping, so yes I have a right to sound pissed off.

"Rogue…" Ro almost held her breathe for a second, I could hear the hesitation. "Jubilee said something about a fight, about Bobby breaking up with her a few weeks ago. I thought you should know. I thought maybe since you two used to talk a lot that you'd be the one she might run to."

That prick Iceman. God, I could run my claws through him right now.

"Does he know what she did for him, does he have any clue…?" I had to stop myself from saying what I wanted to. Ro doesn't waste time with bull shit, I know I can shovel it in heaps when I'm pissed. "Give her a few days, she probably need to get away from Icehole for a while. I'll head towards your way, I'll be back in a few days. "

I cut her off before I could here anymore, I don't do soap operas. I knew Bobby and her wouldn't last forever, they were kids. Forever doesn't start with the guy you date at 17, or it shouldn't. But if they broke up, I know she hurts. It's like the wolverine to run, hide and lick their wounds. I gave her that, I will never allow myself to forgive giving it to her. She knows how to handle herself, she made it 2000 miles her own the first time. I trust her.

Summer's nearly over and I know a new batch of kids will be coming into the school. Nothing has changed for those kids going to that school, and really, Ro is to thank for that. She's so dedicated, absolutely unwavering in her support for the entire school. After the way the professor died, and losing Jean and Scott, she's been the rock those kids needed, even though I know she's still grieving herself. So, the last thing she needs is any grief from me, or from Rogue for that matter.

I hit the border near the Adirondack- bridge crossings only lead to questions-and stopped at a bar for a drink. Four hours and I'll be home. I timed it right to pull in at night. I don't want a big welcoming committee when I arrive. Actually I don't want anyone else to know I coming so I can slit that frickin' snow prick's throat in his sleep. I wanted to but I know I can't. He has earned his way up to where Scott used to sit on the team, they can't lose the leader again, not now. But I can guarantee you one thing. In the Danger Room, his ass is mine.

This time the phone went off in my pocket, mid swig off a fresh one. I almost choked. Twice in one week. This better be worth something.

"Um…uhh"

"What the fuck is it this time? Is a kitten stuck in a tree? " I yell for shock value. They know I hate being tethered so actually having to answer ithe stupid to no purpose... I would split it in half if I weren't in public.

"No… It's Jubes. Rogue isn't back yet, I think, well I don't know what to think. The last month she's been really quiet,, you know, like alone quiet, and I don't know what was going through her head. She wouldn't even talk to me. We used to talk about everything, but we haven't done that since I can't remember when. Then we got in a fight about, well, I can't even remember, then she packed everything and left. Well, not exactly everything, but enough to go away for a while. This is not like her, and I'm getting worried she'll do something stupid."

She's been crying the whole time and by now she's almost breathless.

"Alright, calm down, take a second and breathe…. Now what's going on? Rogue went where?" Did I catch all that? Can she say more in only one breath?

"She's still not here, she hasn't even called me or the house, Kitty and were going shopping, I thought she was coming with us, but she still hasn't come back."

"Look, I'm not far away. Just sit tight for a bit more. Look through her room, see if she left anything, a note, anything…. Tell Storm I'm not far out"

I threw a bill at the bar, filled the tank and did the rest of the ride like a bat out of hell. When I pulled in, Ro met me in the garage, the look on her face unreadable. An adrenalin rush clung to her; something good must have happened. Marie must be home. But then I noticed there was anxiety mixed with her joy. The news wasn't all good. Something was still wrong, the kind of something she only discussed in meeting rooms. She never showed how bad a situation could be in front of the kids. Behind closed doors, she hides the reality of how much most of the world hated everything about what we have become. I figured I wasn't gonna like what came next.

"Logan, its good to see you. I'm sorry I pulled you away." A hug, her tiny frame, arms around my shoulders. It's the first human contact I've had in months. We don't think of each other like that. She has the Beast, and I don't want to take a hit from him. Office job or no office job, he is what his name says he is.

"Lets go into the office. We have a lot to discuss." She turned quickly, and begins to head away before I can even get a thought together. Its dark and the mansion is quiet. Only the essential lights are on. It's before the rush of the herd, so everything smells like disinfectant and wood polish. I almost forget what that smelled like.

We made it to the professor's old office, which was hers now, I guess. It was orderly, but the top of the desk had stacks of papers on it, piled neatly away from the center which was completely clean. The professor would never have let anyone see those stacks, but this Ororo, not Chuck, so I said nothing.

She sat on the couch first, not behind the desk, so I sat next to her. We're talking like X-men, like the friends that we have become over the last seven years.

"I got a call from Dr. MacTaggart. She and the professor have known each other for years. Logan, she told me he has returned."

"Who? Magento? Did he show up somewhere. Could I finish what I started with him?"

She paused, made sure I was listening, "He is with her in Scotland!'

What? I saw him being torn apart-shredded skin, then muscle, exposed bone. I could do nothing but watch, like it was myself being stripped to the core and then disappearing to oblivion.

"You were there with me when it happened. A person doesn't become dust and then just reappear 1,200 miles away. Is this a fucking joke?" I knew it wasn't, but I couldn't wrap my head around who-or what-was in Scotland.

"Let me tell it the way I was told. Charles had a brother, catatonic for most of his life. Moira was taking care of him. One morning, he woke up and spoke to her, but it was Charles speaking, not his brother. She said he had transferred himself telepathically to his brother's body. There are so many details; I can't even explain it right. He will be able to come back in a few weeks, but Moira doesn't want to push him into coming back too soon. I already called Hank. He can't wait to come back and see him with his own two eyes!" Her eyes brightened a bit when she told me about the professor. Relaxation and ease wafted off of her.

"But what does this have to do with Rogue?" I hope I didn't rush the great news about the Professor, but I came back to see Marie, I rushed back to find her. If she is out there, I'm going to find her.

"Jubes is pretty upset. Rogue has been reclusive, quiet. The last month, she's wanted to be alone, on the grounds, in her room, alone. I tried to talk to her a few times, but she just smiled and said she was fine. She blamed her course load for college or a long training session. She never really ever said when her powers came back. She just went back to protecting herself. We never really talked about it, I'm sorry I didn't ask her more." She looked away, almost ashamed, away from my tracking eyes.

"You let her slip through the cracks. Shit, You knew what it meant to her. You were ready to tar and feather her for thinking the cure was a great idea. It was her freedom. You don't know what it's like to not have it."

"Logan, please! We don't know—"

"That's right, We don't know. She's out there like she was when she was 16. She's running because that is the only thing she feels safe to do." It's what I taught her to do. Rage was building. I had to contain it. The claws were itching to come out, slice though anything that was hurting Marie.

"I didn't think it was about Bobby. They haven't been a couple for quite a long while; I can't help blame myself, I should have tried harder… " The change in her voice couldn't hide the concern she truly held for Rogue. They may have their differences, but the mansion was Marie's home, and Storm would fight anything that came to destroy that. "I suggest you sleep for the night, and start in the morning. I'll see if Jubilee found anything in Rogue's personal items that may be of use."

I had to hold me breath for a little while to try to calm down and focus what could be done. Before, I would have gotten back on my bike and took off running, but strategy has its benefits, I need to focus most on that now. The professor is alive. I should have been happy, but my mind wouldn't let me be happy-or anything else-until she was home.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 2 Trapping My Own Demons**_

I didn't sleep. I sat in the corner, on the floor, watched the shadows of the curtains against the wall move when the breeze picked up. The trees were in silhouette, from the moon, swaying, leaning, intertwined. The air was crisp, like it followed me back down here. The dry dead of summer will lose itself to the incoming cold. The leaves will smother the grass, shedding their life. I couldn't let go of the idea that Marie was trapped behind her skin again, underneath layers and gloves, smothering her happiness.

Part of me was disgusted that I didn't take the chance sooner. I could have made her mine, there wasn't any reason, physically I couldn't. The animal wanted her, not lusted, needed to be surround by every inch of her. They way she smelled, the feeling of her hair brushing against my face, the taste of her lips. Feeling all the curves of her body, my skin against her skin, the taste of her sweat. I could have allowed the animal to take control, and claim her like the feral beast I know I truly am.

Except, she was supposed to be happy, living her life like anyone else her age, spending too much money on clothes, going out with her friends, drinking to much. I didn't want her wasting it on someone who didn't even know how old he was, who has the bone structure of a submarine, that made killing an art with built in retractable cutlery. I was built by the hands of monsters to kill, heartless, thoughtless, a means to an end, taking out the opposition in front of my path. Never questioning or second guessing why. I could have called it defending myself. I could have called it following orders. But like a switch, it turns itself on, and I am a machine. I do not think, just act against what's in front of me. Is that the Wolverine or is that a trained response at the hands of those who gave me my metallic skeleton?

The animal hunts its prey, stalks something helpless, watching from the shadows, being the predator, surviving,… existing,… continuing. But the machine, reacts, doesn't plan, just responds, swift, killing with the least resistance. Is it one in the same?, I will never know. So I can deal with being the animal, I can control the beast in its natural environment.

I am protecting her from seeing that. I watched her from the shadows, you could call it stalking her for her own good. That is my own need, watching her like a helpless, defenseless prey I will attack to fill my inner hunger. But she is not defenseless. I know; I have taught her to kick some ass. She is not helpless. She knows how to survive on her own better than anyone else in that house. And she has my thoughts, my nightmares, fear, pain, things no girl at the forefront of her life should have as memories. Have I done wrong by her? She grew into the woman that could take on anything or anyone, so the promise to protect her became shielding her from the worst parts of myself. She's running, away from what I don't know, hurting. I don't know where to start tracking her down. I'm not good at head games. She's always in mine, but I can't think what's going on in hers.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Three A Spinning Compass**_

I met Ro by the coffee pot in the morning, she was drinking tea and smearing jam over toast. She had gotten the rest of the team up and around the table. So breakfast and a meeting, great, which means I can get on the road faster. Kids weren't running around yet, so there weren't any closed doors. Kitty was walking over two bowls of cereal to a chair already filled by Bobby, cute really cute. Jubilee kept watching me, from her chair. She had nothing in front of her, but I could hear her stomach give her away, she was hungry and nervous, she deserved to be. These were supposed to be her friends, if they really were, I wouldn't be in this mess.

"Jubes" Ro started, "What did you find? Could you tell anything from what was left from her things?"

"Well, not much. Her desk had just her books, and a few notes from classes. She took her laptop, and her cell phone. Most of her clothes are gone…"

I had to interrupt "Did anyone try calling her, you guys knew how to get a hold of me easy enough."

"Yeaaaah," with lots of sass, I think I pushed a button I didn't know Jubilee had. "I first night she didn't come back, I called a few times, and it rang like crazy. But if you try it now, it only goes to voice mail. She probably turned it off. I've tried e-mailing her a few times, and nothing, she was addicted to her e-mail. I put an auto response on one so, I will know if and when she reads it."

Clever, Jubilee's using that mind of hers for good this time. Give me a trail and I can follow, but this may actually be useful later on.

"Aren't we jumping to conclusions a bit fast, I mean she is an adult. Like you said before, maybe she just needs space." Bobby had to open his mouth didn't he. I felt a growl rumbling in my chest, my eyes darted his way, throwing the daggers I actually wanted to impale him to the bone with. I put my cigar in my mouth, I wanted to light it so bad, but house rules, no dice. Ro glanced my way as if to interrupt me before I could start chewing that boy a new asshole he deserved.

"You are part of the reason she out there right now. All of you should be ashamed with yourselves. You were her friends, or so I thought. Did anyone talk to her when the cure wore off, did anyone even notice? Two of you shared a room with her, didn't you, you could have seen something was wrong." I could have kept going, but the root of my anger was not going to give me any leads.

"She was waiting for you!." Kitty cut right to the chase. Silence, I don't think anyone dared to breathe after that statement . "She would stare out her window to the drive way for hours sometimes, -waiting for you. Especially after the nights she would wake up screaming. She never wanted to talk about those either. We never talked about the bigger stuff because she only used to talk about those things- with you!." She kept going. Kitty was almost in tears, but she didn't try to hide them. "We all knew when it came back, but we didn't want to make a big deal about. I knew it hurt her, but she walled herself off. We all knew what it meant for to not have control of it. You weren't here, so you can't blame anybody." Bobby put his arm around her to either stop her, or cover her from me. He had instinct to smother a flame better than anybody, no pun intended.

Colossus finally joined the party from the levels below, already had a good sweat going for his morning workout. He sat down next to Jubilee, barely fitting in the chair, dwarfing her in comparison. A gentle nudge of his leg against hers gave an indication that they might be together, Jubilee gained a little confidence and straighten against her seat. I suddenly had it in my head that everyone was pairing off into couples, coming together maybe out of convenience, or proximity. Rogue had no one, even if being together was superficial, acting out the motions of an affair, she didn't have anyone.

"How did she leave, did she just walk out the door, does she have one of the cars?" I had to get somewhere with the how's. The whys can't really be filled in right now anyway, that's really only for her to answer, when she is ready, if she ever is.

"She left on foot, all vehicles are accounted for, last time she was seen was late in the afternoon 5 days ago. She did leave some of her personal items here, so she can't be held down by much." Colossus had all the details in anticipation, like he could have mounted a team for the same reason. He was always a great team player, never looking for glory, just solid execution.

"Had she talked about going anywhere, maybe to see her parents?"

"Not her parents, Storm. She pretty much cut them out of her lives, like they did her. " Rogue must have told Jubes how when her mutation started and what her parents did to her. I didn't think she would talk about that with anyone but me, when a new student came to the mansion in a situation like hers, it would bring out the anger she still held for her parents.

"So, as of right now, we know she's running from here, angry for whatever reason, and probably doing everything to keep us from finding her." Bobby summed it up pretty good, were we taking too much time out of his day?

Ororo was getting pissed that no one saw the fear that this could lead to. "You all know what happened to Rogue in the past, she was a target, and could still be. If all the others cures failed, there may be a list a mile long of mutants hating everything we stand for, with her being out there, she makes herself a target again, whether she thinks she is or not." Storm put it in to perspective for anyone who found our little chat unnecessary. She went on … "We've all seen what still exists, what gets done to mutants that get captured, guinea pigs for the unthinkable. I think it's best we wait for her to make the first move. She knows how to keep herself safe, at least for now. "

"How is that going to help? We can't just sit with are thumbs up are asses waiting for the phone to ring…" I can't sit here and listen to this, I didn't get called back here to wait and see.

"But if we do try to find her, do you think she will happy to come back, or will you be the one to tie her down and force her to stay." Ro's voice was unwavering. She had a point, and I hate to admit that it was true. She stared at me, our eyes locking. I think I knew what she wanted to say. She hadn't told the others yet about Chuck coming back to the mansion. I knew that meant cerebro might be able to locate her. I would let her share the news of the professor, but now is not the time.

"I gotta get away…" I had to get out, I was going to blow if we kept talking about scenarios. Instinct was forcing me to trace where she had been.

I grabbed the bike and started toward the train station. I don't think she would have started out there, she would think we would look there, because we found her their last time. But soon enough, I was the lobby, trying to find a hint of her scent. Five days wouldn't leave much behind, and that was true when I was leaving. I started hitting diners. Rogue liked a burger and fries, and her distinctive streak would make her memorable to waitresses. It was a simple start, but it got me thinking. By nightfall, I came up with nothing, headed back to the mansion to get my head together. I had to focus, and the best idea that came to me was hitting the road, at least until Chuck could use cerebro to locate her, if he still could.

The sun was creeping up, I already had my pack tied to my bike when Ro came by.

"So how long, which way?" she asked.

"North, maybe Boston or out that way. Kurt's from that way right? I figure somewhere she can cover up and not look out of the ordinary, and then if it gets later, head a bit more south when the cold hits." I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice. I had no clue, I'm the one that runs, not her. Would she listen to the wolverine in her head?

"Okay," a long pause, she never has to find the right words, so I guess there is very little to say. "I will call you the minute Charles returns. I will explain everything to him."

I swung my leg around and saw a shadow creep from the door to the garage. Jubilee still in her pajamas, clinging to the frame. I could smell the salty tears, fear rolling off of her. She cared for Rogue, or she wouldn't be standing there. Our eyes met, and she turned away, but I think she understood I wasn't angry anymore.

"I can have the Blackbird anywhere, anytime. Just call," Ro headed back towards the door, not watching me leave.

I turned on the engine, letting the gravel fly behind me. This was a turning point for me. If I returned without her, my mission would be a failure. I do not fail, I am invincible. If I came back with Marie in a body bag, I would have failed Marie. I was supposed to protect her, even if that means from herself. So I bit down hard on the reality that I may be gone for quite a while.

Days rolled into weeks. Bars, and cheap motel rooms. North turned out to be a waste of time. Heading south felt better, I don't know why. I didn't hit the loner truck stops. She would have been to memorable, and if she was laying low, places a little more populated would have served her well. But I also know Marie to think she wouldn't run to bigger cities, to many people, too much possible contact. They would be too crowded to keep her distance. Smaller towns fit the situation.

I got lucky at a gas station about a month after I left. Half way between the mansion and D.C., a gas station cashier thought she saw someone with a streak of white hair, younger. She thought she remembered a rusted out car, but she couldn't remember if she had somebody with her. I did not dare to press for more, I think I scared her bit, and information turns into misinformation really quick. But it did answer a few things. Marie was alive, she had a car. It rules out hitching rides with god only knows who, sleeping in alleys. I had comfort in that.

The phone rang, I was hope like all hell it was going to be something news.

"Logan, how are things going?"

"Well, not all bad, she's been seen and alive. "

"Good, I know that's not you were hoping for, but it's something right?"

"I guess. You promised you 'd call when the professor was back?"

"Oh yes. He's here and doing well. It's like he never left. The rest of the team are elated, Hank is up from Washington for the weekend. Would you like to come back? He knows and would like to help."

"Does he think he can use cerebro to find her?"

"He wants to speak to you first before doing anything else for Rogue."

"What kind of answer is that? It's simple, isn't it? Or does he not want to? "

"You need to speak to him yourself."

I want to launch this damn phone across a lake, how can he be so selfish, so righteous? We all played apart, giving her reason to run away. We should all be trying to find her, but I'm out here alone, chasing after a ghost for all it's worth, and the one thing that could make it so easy, is now not an option because we need to talk about it! Talking doesn't get anybody anywhere, just hurt. Angry. Alone. It's never worked before. I could be one block away from her, right now, and I need to go 400 miles back to discuss whatever it is on his mind right now. The more I think about, the professor plays his minions, doesn't he. Why won't he dig deeper in my mind, I have a lifetime locked up, that I want so much to at least understand. My Marie is out there running from her own demons, lost to everything, and he wants talk about it! Why does he have to hold all the cards, he did the same to Jean, he knew what she had in her, he locked it up without giving her a choice, giving her a chance to tame it. I know he blames me for letting her get away. It wasn't my fault. "You hear me Chuck! I WON'T LET YOU DO THIS TO ME!"Like that was going to do anything, I am on a road high on either side with corn and winter wheat. No one to hear me for miles.

I need to fight, a cage and some stupid drunk shit for brains to pulverize. I need to make somebody feel as hollow as I feel, I need somebody to feel pain, pain is something I know how to handle. Pain reminds you you're alive, pain brings adrenaline, adrenaline keeps you fighting. The difference between pain and hurt is pain you enter into it, understand it is coming, and fight on in spite of it. Hurt comes from words, promises not kept, needing someone to understand and being alone, and I hurt her. Kitty was right, no one else is to blame but me. Four people died for Marie, Scott, Jean, the Professor , and me. I might have well as been dead to her. I left her alone, I didn't try to control the animal, I used it as an excuse to leave. I needed to run, I needed to be away, from the memories of Jean, of what I had to do, even Scott. He was the closest thing I had to a friend, we had each other's backs. I was selfish, she was getting under my skin, I didn't know what to do. I only remember being alone. I only know how to be alone. I could travel with everything I own, nothing to keep me held down. Why did it have to be her? Fuck, she was only sixteen, I didn't have to let her into my truck, "I DIDN"T HAVE TO LET INTO MY FUCKING LIFE, MARIE!"

Is it my turn to be the one waiting? The next time I see Chuck, I may knock the telepathic right back out of whatever body he is living in.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter 4 Broken Reflections and Reintroductions_**

I pull into a bar, nowhere in particular to remember. I have to take a break for a while, knock back a few. The bartender is young, not that long out of high school for all I can tell. Her hair is long and pulled up, but it still hits almost to her waist. It's dark like Marie's. She works really fast, must have been slinging beers for a while, keeps conversation to a minimum, except when someone wants another. And even then I don't think she looks with more than glance. The tight denim skirt probably keeps a few guys hanging around for more than a little eye candy. Her t-shirt is just as skimpy and thin enough that I can see a tattoo on her shoulder. Hearts and someone else's name, a mistake she will regret forty years from now, I bet. But she keeps smiling, and going about her business. The sun is getting low and the night hasn't even really started for this place. I look to my left and see two older guys. They smell of oil and grease, still wearing workers jumpsuits, mechanics maybe, shooting the shit before heading home to wives. I really don't know, but that's the picture they paint. The three at the other end weren't much different, different uniform, but I could say the same for them. All of us as old as dirt in her eyes as she gives us what we want with a smile for crappy tips, and in a town like this, I can see her still here, years from now, life walking all over her face as it passes her by.

Marie was no different. It didn't dawn on my until now. I'm not sure how long she had been faking it for her friends, for everyone else. I don't even know how that feels. She never had to do that for me. She could tell me anything, she didn't feel like she couldn't cry in front of me. She had a mutation that kept her separated from anyone else. She thought the answer was the cure, I know she lied when she said it wasn't for Bobby, but a kid trying to control her mutation for a simple kiss doesn't know who she's really doing it for. What was it like for her after returning with the cure, she was not at Alcatraz with us. She didn't see the anger, the choice to fight against our own. All those kids grew up after living through that, I wonder if they made Marie pay for not being there. And when it came back, I bet she felt just as trapped as she did the first time. After having the taste of freedom, losing it all felt like dying. Disappearing into her room, being alone, her way of being forgotten. How am I supposed to find someone who wants to disappear? How will I convince her to come home? She is a women who may be living on her own terms, not a girl struggling to find where she fits. I may not convince her that the school, the mansion is her home. It's never truly been mine. It would be hypocritical to drag her back to some place that only brings out the hurt in her. I need to know she's ok. I need to do something I really don't want to do, I'm going to have to kowtow to the Professor to give me direction, if he can find it. This is about Marie, not about the Wolverine.

I drove through the night and make it to the grounds about mid day. Students have come back and there's that underlying chatter I can hear throughout the house. It's something that doesn't go away until lights out, and then for whatever reason, it feels too quiet. I head directly to the Professors office, no one else is around to tell me otherwise.

My hand is on the knob,

"_Logan, I am teaching a class I would prefer to not have interrupted. Please bide you time elsewhere for the moment. I will call you when I am free." _

I turn first, as if he is behind me, then remembered he could do that. Dammit! Professor. A little warning would be nice, my last memory of you is dying in a thousand pieces, doing your telepathic mind shit is a bit much for the first howdy-do.

Fine, I'll head to the danger room to see if Colossus is running any training programs. It's been a while since I've been down to the lower levels. Nothing seems to change, steels walls, endless turns, within seconds, I'm back at the observation deck watching kids get plastered by street gangs, Colossus has his work cut out for himself. Someone else was also down there, teaching. He had good form, like he's been around fighting for a while. I will have to see if he's up sparring later. I haven't had a decent partner for a long time, simulations in the danger room don't add up to the real thing.

I don't interrupt, it's not my place. I begin to wonder what world these kids will have to grow up in. The mutant registration act keeps being threatened time after time, Alcatraz didn't help much. They seem so young, faces of babies learning to control their abilities, maybe even use them for an upper hand in a fight. After a while I couldn't even get in the cage, to many questions, nights walking out empty handed, and I could have won them all.

I head to the kitchen to raid the fridge of whatever is good. I need to remember to stash a 6 pack somewhere-

"_I am available now if you have something to discuss, I'll be in my office."_

"Thanks Chuck," I say to no one.

The halls are full the kids, the new ones are terrified just to look at me, and right they should. A few seem to know who I am, and nod my way. This time I make it to the door and hesitate. I just want to-

"It's open", from the other side. I knew it, he was waiting and probably in my head already, checking my mood, maybe. I'm not sure how to react, how will I know it's really—

"_You do not need to worry, Logan." _I push the wooden door open, holding my breath, not really sure why. He is standing, actually leaning slightly on the corner of his desk. His face is the same, or different slightly, not sure how. He stands about the height of Scooter, taller than I would have ever thought he could be.

"Sit down Logan, please. Yes it is me, without the wheels this time."

Is that a joke? I smiled at the idea, I guess baldy will have to do for a new nickname. I sit across from his desk, and he sits in his chair. The desk is clear this time, no distractions, just how he had years before.

"I know why you are here." A hesitant smile crosses his face, he finds my eyes and locks on them. "I know Rogue left us some time ago, without leaving a reason or any preparations to her new living situation." A pause, like I'm supposed to fill in the gaps. " You know that once the children have fulfilled their educational requirements, we do help them either continue into college, stay to assist the school, or move on at their own pace." As if I didn't know this already.

"It is not a standard procedure to leave the X-men team as Rogue chose to, but she had no obligation to stay. We are thankful for her time given to the team, but it was her right to move on."

" Can you find her..?"

"Logan, I understand you have taken it upon yourself to relocate her."

"She left after a fight with Jubilee, she hadn't been happy here for a long time. She could be any-"

"You believe she may be in danger," calm, to calm for a statement like that.

"I don't know, I think…. I don't know what to think. She could be doing things to hurt herself, she could have been found by Magneto's old group, she could be strapped to a table in a lab somewhere,"

"She could also be finding what she is capable of, on her own. I understand everyone's fearing for her safety. Society has given us little reason to think otherwise. But your fear is routed much more deeply, on a personal level, isn't it?"

Do I have it written all over my face? Is it that obvious? Is the Wolverine going soft, can't I still be a hard ass, and show concern for someone I have known for seven years?

"I respect your care and concern for Rogue, the two of you have shared many experiences like no other for many years here. I do also understand you had left not long after the funeral for Jean. You have been away from the team and the mansion for that length of time?"

Saying yes would only admit that I deserted everyone, even when they were at their most vulnerable. Saying anything other then yes, would be lying and the professor would see right through anything I could tell him.

"I am not looking to place blame, Logan. I know what you did for Jean, I do not think I would have had the courage to be in your place at that moment. And for that, I am sorry I was not here after, to help you through any animosity you may have held."

I couldn't look at him anymore, I looked beyond him, towards the window, kids running, flying is more like it. He died, and he's apologizing for not being here. I don't know what goes on in that head of his. The Professor dying and them returning, it all feels as if the middle never happened, but we are missing a few big pieces to make it whole again.

"I would very much be grateful if you would join our staff. Self defense of course, but maybe a History class. The team is also needing of your assistance."

There's the guilt and the nudge I was waiting for. I leave my silence to fill the air, I knew he was going to try to suck me back in. I bet he can also feel that he's pushing my buttons just a bit to much. Boundaries, Chuck!

"Have you had a moment to meet Remy LeBeau? He has joined the staff and the team as well. A gifted man. I can leave you to think about your decision for as long as you like. You know you always have a place in this home, which ever you may choose."

I'm not done yet, "What about Rogue?"

"I thought I made myself clear, Logan. She has decided to leave us, maybe even if only for the time being. You made the decision to break contact with her long before that even happened. I will not satisfy your wanting to locate her purely out of miscommunication."

"You selfish bastard….."

"Logan, control yourself. We are done for now." We stare at each other for a long pause, I break it, as I leave, slam the door, I don't care who hears it either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5 Comrades in Purgatory**

I head to the lower levels. Time in the danger room is about the only thing that could burn off this rage. I'm torn. There is no perspective, nothing to balance this against. If I stay, I feel like a pawn, used to help the team and the school. Am I the only one who sees this in the professor? If I go out again, and Rogue returns, would I be upholding any part of my promise to her? I am not even sure what my promise means to her.

"The Wolverine. I have heard much about you, but did not know what to believe."

I thought I locked the door. He walks into the control room, smelling of rum, women, and stale cigarettes. All of which reminds me of my life before the mansion.

"Remy LeBeau, Gambit by trade. You must be Logan," he says, extending his hand, but I wasn't sure what to think. Something about him is untrustworthy, so I leave him hanging.

"From what I heard, you should be 7 feet tall, throw a man 50 feet in the air, light a cigar, and slice him to pieces on the way down."

I turn to face him, looking directly into his eyes. _SNIKT._ Right under his nose, but I can't get a whiff a fear off of him. He must have been around a while. I pull them back in, not taking my eyes off him at all.

"What do you want?"

"I heard you used to fight. I wanted to see if you were up to some friendly one on one?"

"Hank's not back from D.C., it's not good to take on more than you can handle without a doctor here."

"Your confidence precedes you Logan. I teach the children here, at the confidence of the professor, no?"

"Bar fights and street gangs are one thing, but an army of mutants coming after you? I liked to see what you'd look like on the other side of that." Wasn't I thinking the same about him, just a few hours ago? His proposition is a little too convenient for my tastes. I'm not sure if he is sizing me up, or trying to knock me down.

"Try me." A much too overconfident smile. That boy looks too pretty to be able to stand up in a fight. "I bring my staff, you have your….. butter knives".

"Fine. If I kill you, you asked for it."

"We shall see, Logan."

I pull up a night street corner simulation, enough glass to make it fun, dim lighting to give me the upper hand. I drop my jacket and head down the stairs, he starts down the opposite set. Before I even make it to the end, a swirl of debris impales my skin, old papers charged like the sharpest knives. I dodge the remaining blows as they dent the wall behind me. I watch him duck out of sight, behind a brick wall, but I can hear him breathing. I know exactly how to get to him. I jump a fence that puts me directly behind him. He is still focused towards the light. I pull up the claws and quickly breaking the plate glass, he lunges forward, staff at the ready. I throw my right directly for the staff, but he is to quick. I take one on the chin, feeling the skin break open briefly. Then almost just as fast, I feel it knit itself back together.

"Oh, you heal as fast as you miss. You should be doing better."

As if conducting an orchestra, he waves his hand, making all the glass shards fly through the air, hitting my back, cutting through my jeans. The rest rolls forward catching the light. I don't let him see me flinch. I pull in my claws, throw a left into his shoulder, a bit of a shock I think. His staff is gone. I have his attention now, an upper jab, a quick left to his pretty face. Bleeding above his eye, he stumbles back bit. I pull away. His eyes glowing red, I feel a breeze from behind, I thrust out the claws and raise them just as his staff passes over my head, and by luck, it is now in five pieces. A static charge fills the room. My feet leave the ground, and my back hits a wall and continues through it.

"Pretty boy can't take a few hits," I holler out from the rubble. He stands under the light not charging me. His gaze breaks, shocked.

"We've got company."

"What?" I didn't program any add-ons. Did the mansion get raided?

Back into the center, I see Mystique in her blue nakedness descend from the street light. Sabertooth turns from around a dark alley. FUCK!

"Stay with the lost kitten. I've got lizard girl," Remy shouts.

Sabertooth has his eyes on me already. I pace him out a bit, take a deep inhale of air, but I don't smell the usual stench that follows this group. Something's not right, but I can't put my finger on it. He growls, teeth showing. I feel a rumble build in my chest. He pounces first, his nails through my shoulder, but I get a good chunk out of his arm. He brings his feet up to my chest and pushes off, sending us both off our feet. I charge toward his back, claws penetrating his torso. He releases a loud hiss, but reaches around to claw a large gash from my back. I push him forward, letting my claws slip out on their own. He falls to a cat stance, turning toward my direction with all fours on the ground. I find a lamppost quickly, to have something at my back. He runs directly at me gaining speed, his eyes never blinking. I pierce through the metal, using it as support, bringing my feet to stop his momentum, then put him in a choke hold with my knee. Sabertooth is clawing at my legs, but I lean my weight into him. This will hold him for a breather.

"How are you doing with the Blue Wench?"

"Smashing, having a great time!" I look over and see him up on a fire escape stairs, focusing his energy to bend the lamppost Mystique has used as a retreat. She jumps and sticks to the brick like a spider. Everything freezes, and starts to fade. I lose my balance as the simulation disappears. Remy also falls directly to the original floor. Sabertooth and Mystique crumble. They were all part of the illusion. I look up to the control room and see Colossus staring down at both of us. It makes sense now. I let my guard down a bit. The kids are safe, the mansion is safe. Pete just wanted to fuck with our minds.

Over the sound system, "Both of you up here, now." I am learning he is not one to piss off. We both head up, like little boys in trouble. I smile a bit at the idea. When I left the school after Alcatraz, he was the quiet reserved one. And now I think I'm going to get my ass chewed out by him.

He stares me down, first, with disappointment. Then he walks over to Remy, does the same. Remy starts trying to talk himself out of this first.

"I can assure you, we were not engaging in anything that would leave you without a team member-"

"Quiet, Cajun! This is for training, not for beer brawls and playing out your own masculine insecurities."

"Come on, Pete. When did you become gate keeper of the danger room?" I had to know what stick got shoved up his ass. I used to fight in the sims in the danger room for hours on end.

"Until the Professors tells me otherwise, I set the standards here. Classes only. Logan, you know where all the bars are if you want to pick a fight."

That's was low. Professor's little pet I see.

"_Gentlemen, all of you are wanted on the strategy room."_

"This is over, for now," and with that he left. I wonder if he'll have us mopping floors and washing windows for detention. Or better yet, writing "I will not use the danger room for beer brawls" 100 times on a chalk board.

Remy looks at me with a stupid smile on his face, "So that woman, does she ever wear clothes?"

"Mystique? In her natural form, No."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 6 The Logic of Ice Cream for Beer**_

I let the X-mice go to their little powwow. I change clothes. Kids seeing me all bloody is never good, for any reason. I head back to the kitchen planning to actually eat something this time, without being interrupted. One lone boy sits at the bar eating his weight in ice cream, glasses as big as his face, watching me intently.

"Hey." He speaks first. He must know of me already.

"I hope you ate dinner first," I say, trying to at least act like I should belong. I never know what to say to kids this age, not little, but no back bone yet to get a bit cocky, before I really start to not like them.

"I'm Mike, and you are Mr. Logan."

"That's right." Telepath, maybe.

"I know why you are here."

"Really? Anyone coming into this place is either hungry or thirsty, and I am both. But they don't keep what I'm really thirsty for, so soda will have to do."

"She will come back here." Stating a fact, no hesitation, still slurping right from the carton.

"Who? What do you know?" I've gotta not scare this kid into running off. Control, Logan, control!

"What kind of mutant are you anyway? They call you Wolverine, but you don't have any fur?"

I can't tell him I have animal instincts to kill. I pop them for him and his eyes light up like a kid in a candy shop, not scared at all. I use one to split the cap off the soda bottle, make them look useful.

"I can also hear things, stuff most people can't hear." And smell. I can tell the difference between someone I met before and a stranger by how they smell. My whole body is filled with metal, and I can heal fast enough that I bet I could get blown in half and still walk away, but he doesn't need to know that, especially with ice cream. "So how did you get here?"

"I can see bits of the future, but only in chunks. Not like cheating in school and stuff, but people."

"Oh." It makes sense, to him, just not to me at this moment. I could ask him a ton of stuff right now.

"You see, my dad thought I should get the cure, even if it didn't last. My mom said I should keep what I'm born with. I wasn't like weird looking or anything. But my dad, he let me stay home from school one day, took me to this doctor's office place. People were screaming and throwing things. He was trying to get me in the door, and someone shot him. My mom sent me here, not long after. "

"Michael, I hope you have finished all of your school work?" The Professor barges in with his usual perfect timing.

"Yes sir."

"Good, it will be lights out shortly."

"Okay. 'Night Mr. Logan." He walks away, scuffing the feet of his pajamas on the floor.

"Wonderful child, Michael. So young for his mutation. Is there any mint chocolate chip left?"

"So what happened to his dad?" I ask, ignoring any reasoning to make this into something.

"Clinics are still available for the cure. Protesters are covering them as heavily as they were before. This time it escalated into violence, no one was safe. This level of volatility has risen in many cities. Many families have been broken apart out of fear, not for actually being a mutant, but fear of violence inflicted on entire families."

"The team-" I have to change the subject; it's getting too heavy, and all I really want to do is eat.

"They are going to St. Louis. A group of prisoners are being transferred. I know they are all mutants, and clear of any wrong doing. We are going to intercept and relocate them to safe houses for the time being."

"Count of Monte Cristo, isn't that a little much for even you, Chuck, intervening with government?"

"Times have changed, Logan." That tone reminds me that not only have I left the mansion, but staying on the fringes of society has sheltered me from the fear Storm kept away from this house, allowing its residents to keep their innocence.

"That boy, Michael?"

"He sees how people relate to each other. He can sense suffering and anguish. In a way, he sees the future, but not of his own time." His tone saddens slightly. "He carries guilt like no one his age should. Michael could envision his mother would be very sad, but couldn't see how. He thinks it is his fault for being a mutant that his father brought him to that place."

I really could go for a beer right now. These kids' stories are getting sadder every time I come back here.

"Would it be out of place to ask you to assist Bobby with surveillance this evening, with the team away?"

"It's fine. I figured I wasn't going to sleep much anyway."

"Thank you. I know he will value an extra set of eyes."

He left, walking away from the kitchen, something I still can't get over. I don't hear the slightest hum of the wheelchair anymore, the sound so distinctive to the Professor. I knew exactly where he was by that hum.

I had a lot of thinking to do. I had to figure out what that boy was trying to tell me. Pain and anguish. Was that part of Marie's future, or is she hurt now? But he said she will return. I'm not good at waiting. I react. I can change plans when the situation changes. I can lead. But I don't wait. There's not much to do when I have to wait. Waiting is as detrimental as second guessing, knowing there are other options I could be taking right now, those other options could mean a better outcome. Better outcomes mean people get to live. Constantly searching for that better outcome, feeling the people I might lose could slip through my fingers, only comes out of waiting. Holding on too tight can do the same.

If I wait and stay at the school, and what Michael says proves true, she will return. I'll take on a few missions, take back the Danger Room from Colossus. Fill my time without waiting, or lie to myself with that answer. If I hit the road, find a trail to follow, she might not be ready to be found. I could waste months chasing her, hurting the situation even more. Pain and anguish. I have hurt her enough. It is now her turn to make the decisions, and I will be here, waiting.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 7 Getting What I Wanted**_

I'd been working on finishing a few extra rooms for the mansion a few years back. I never finished them the way they should have been, so now that I'm back, I pick up where I left off. A space on the third floor. Two rooms, and lots of distance from most everyone else. I spend time making them look more like a part of the house, not just a hole an animal would live in. Gambit and I had gotten sick of the rules of the teachers wing. Most of the kids didn't even know how to find the stairs that go up here, so it's my oasis at least, away from the squeals and giggles. It also gives me a better vantage point of the grounds, being as high up as we are. I've made it feel more like my own-no glossy paneling, no paintings worth more than a year's salary. Everything has a function, simple. The quietness is real. I can hear the birds in the morning before the sun comes up. I can smell the snow coming from the north, bringing an end to fall.

I've kept a pillow from Marie's bed. It's the only thing that still smells like her. What's left of her is fading in the rest of the house. No one else has noticed. The Professor left her room as it was, even though the space would have been nice for some of the older kids. No intrusions are made. Marie still has a place here; she still belongs. I don't feel as if it's a fight to remember she's still out there. Jubilee grabs every call in one ring. The Professor keeps his ear to the underground. A simple glance toward him always followed by a small nod, no.

I stay back a bit more for missions. I'm not sure if the kids are actually getting older and more experienced than I remember them, or if baiting the whole team out seems a bit too dangerous. We've been doing more, intervening at riots, picking up kids on the streets, and those seem to be getting younger and younger. I've been teaching defense classes, History of War and Strategy, and Phys. Ed. for the little kids. Every once in a while a kid will cling to me while I work in the shop on one of the cars, so even that turns into a lesson. Remy is the one to get me out and away. He always knows where the card games are. I don't know how he does it, but I never leave with less than I came with to those things. The Professor turns a blind eye, or he never chooses to see what we're doing. We never draw attention to ourselves. No fights have to be broken up.

I fall into a rhythm. Maybe I'm lying to myself, but the animal lays low. It becomes comfortable. It doesn't get easy, sometimes a mission puts me out for a while. There are times I would rather burn my eyes out than see some of the things labs do to people, little reminders we're still hated, or seen purely as lab rats. Less than human.

The call comes in just as I'm getting out of a class. THE call, the one I had been waiting for, for too long. Jubilee comes running around the corner from the kitchen, grabbing my arm as she goes.

"You gotta come with me. She called. I only had her for less than a minute, but she called. Colossus is tracing the cell towers right now to get a better location to start out with." We burst through the doors to Chuck's office together. He looks up from some papers, more annoyed than anything.

"Professor, she called. She called the mansion just a second ago. I've got Colossus pinpointing her location right now. But she called. She's OK-"

"Where was she? What the hell was she doing-" She couldn't tell me anything good. "Tell me everything!"

"Logan!" Chuck stares deep into my eyes, chilling, but it shuts me up.

"She said she was looking for info on the West Coast Home, the orphanage. She was doing OK on her own, and wanted to donate money, but that's all I got out of her"

"Thank you, Jubilee. Go to Colossus, and see if he has been able to triangulate her location. Did you get the number?"

"Yes, here!" She hands a folded piece of paper to the professor. I can see her hand shake a bit. "I'll go check on Piotr."

Only the professor and me are left, tension building a brick wall between us. His hand covers the paper, like he is the gate keeper, dangling the keys inches out of my reach. It's what I've wanted for so long, I've stretched every imaginable muscles of patience, waiting for this.

"I do believe it would only be right for you to be the person to call her. I am not sure it would help the situation any if it came from anyone else." His brow lifts slightly., He's trying to hide his fear, lack of control. "You can use my office, for privacy." He doesn't look me in the eye, his swift exit leads me to believe he's scratching at curiosity.

I sit at his chair, staring at the phone. I feel anger being to rise. Why wasn't it me, being the first for her to call? Why couldn't Jubilee get any more information out of her? It seems so cryptic. My hand tries pushing the buttons, but my fingers are sliding from sweat. This is not me, I can't fuckin let her do this to me. I can feel my senses getting stronger. Tthe ring seems piercing through the receiver, the claws itching to be released.

"Hey sugar. Battery must be-"

"Where the _fuck_ are you?" Does she think this is a prank call? "_HEY sugar"_. Who in the hell does she think she is?  
I focus, for a second, I hear a gulp, I can make out her pulse in her neck, a constant wind in the background. "You there?"

I know she is. I know I shocked her a bit. I"m the last person she expected. I never was mad at her; she knew I went off on other people, but never her.

"Marie?"

I can hear her inhale deeply, like she's getting ready for a fight. I have to remember not lose it.

"Logan."

I can't tell if that was a question. Yes, it' me, why wouldn't it be?

"Why the HELL did you leave?"

"Felt like a road trip." Very crass, said the same as all those ditzy girls that practically begged for it at the bars.

"Road trip?" Like she didn't have any responsibility, just on a fucking whim, oblivious to everything else going on in the world. "You get your ass right back here NOW, y'hear me!"

"You sound like my father. No, wait, it's worse than that. You sound like Scott."

She didn't just use my words against me. _"I'm not your father, I'm your friend…'_ That's not like her, she really must have been hurt, but right now, all she wants to do is piss people off.

"Look, come home." Don't fuck up, don't fuck up. Control. Control! "It ain't safe out there."

"Logan, I would have thought you of all people would understand."

"Understand _what_?"

"The need to escape. A chance to get the hell out and live. I'm not coming home. I'm happy as I am."

"Marie, -"

"Sorry, gotta go."

"Kid, listen. The Professor-" She cut me off before I could explain anything. DAMM HER! God, I want to throw something out the window so hard. I don't need this. I haven't waited this long for a conversation like that. She doesn't know what she's doing to anybody. But what did I really expect, her on the side of a snow covered road, trying to hitch a ride to anywhere else, anywhere I was going?

I never did figure out what I was going to say to her. Why did it mean so much for me to find her? It burns, those words '_I'm not coming home. I'm happy as I am._' She is such a bad liar, the pinched tone, how she forces the air out of the back of her throat.

Leaving, she got what she wanted, but my life is a living hell, until she's home.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 8 Working With What I Got_

I disappeared to the bar not far from the school. I finished my cigar sitting on the bike before walking in. Rogue mentioned Scott, I still think of the bike as his. I've haven't let a scratch go, or cleaned it up without thinking about what he would think if I didn't. I hope for his own sake he died without pain. I used to sit on it in the garage, waiting for him to burst through the door screaming at me about returning it empty. But he never came.

Anger was burning through me, smoldering, waiting for another reason to lose control. Whiskey wasn't doing much. I about emptied the bottle on my own. The bar tender was hesitant to let me walk away, but then let me go after I cracked the shot glass in one hand. I didn't know what to do next. The animal said to run, leave it all behind. The last four years have only made me feel hurt, anger and under all that, shame for wanting to make her mine. I don't have to put up with any of this crap, and they all dish it out. I want to wash my hands of them. I have found nothing about my past as the professor promised years ago, guilting me into staying, getting attached. I am not a hero to anyone. I am not meant for this.

But she is, so I can't walk away anymore.

It was late when I got back. The house was quiet. Some rooms were still lit, letting me know a few of them were waiting for me. I had to hunt for the professor first. He's been wondering just as much as I, where she is, and what she was really up to.

His office door was open. He was focused, on what I don't know, but I had interrupted his thoughts.

"What did she tell you?" No hesitation, no salutation, just pure facts, not meeting my gaze.

"She said she was happy, on her own."

"Did you believe her?" Stern, forced.

"She was acting like a screwed up teenager. Hell, I would have smacked her through the phone if I could."

"I have gathered information about her whereabouts, and it will not be easy to hear. I did use Cerebro to locate her-"

"Whatever trouble she is in could have been avoided months ago, am I right?" This is the crap that really pissed me off about him.

"Let me explain. Rogue is traveling with Mystique. Their current location experienced a bank robbery, by two men, one resembling Pyro. If both of their mutations have returned, and Rogue had learned to control her mutation, this pair could have already committed many dangerous crimes. I can connect at least four other situations that could be traced to them. Her earlier contact with us has led me to believe they are motivated to do some good for the mutant cause, as conflicted as that may seem."

Who has she become? She could have been hurt or killed. She could have killed others. She could have undone all the good that we have accomplished, let loose the train wreck that an all-out human vs. mutant war could become.

"I know. I was shocked myself when I put it all together."

I am just as lost as she is. Where is all this lashing out coming from?

"When I was able to locate her, I felt intense sorrow, isolation." He was stammering for words. I felt his anguish, his feelings of loss. He wasn't holding back the barriers surrounding his inner feeling. "I felt her inner struggle, she is on a path of the destruction of herself, despite all the others in her mind. I don't think she wants to put up the fight anymore, keeping them all at bay. She needs to come home."

"Where do I start?"

We saw eye to eye, for once. As many times as we disagreed before, this was mutual.

"They have settled in an suburban area, near a large depository. I have a suspicion I am not the only one that has been able to make a connection. They may be in great danger."

"Why can't we take the Blackbird, grab her and fly out of there?"

"I do not believe that would help Rogue. That may make her feel like a hostage. I am also not sure what kind of arrangement she has with Mystique."

"So I am going alone." It's easier that way. I can watch her, assess the situation.

"Take a car. She won't be expecting that. We will be in contact if you need anything."

"This shouldn't be too hard-"

"Don't underestimate her power, Logan. You cannot assume she won't put up a fight. I am not sharing this information with anyone else, unless I have to."

The anticipation was beyond an adrenalin rush. I packed a bag, not sure what I would actually need. This trip felt different. It was asking me to be more than just a protector, more than the one that always runs in first. It was all or nothing.

I knew she had the animal, the feral side, in her mind, and that first boy, the one that made her. I was never sure about Eric Lensher, Pyro, maybe even Bobby. How were they there? Did they argue? Were they in her sleep? Was it a constant struggle? Did they fade when she got the cure?

I didn't think of any of this, how she would brush herself off, and move on like nothing happened. I had to think she was playing a part for me too, covering the rest of her, that no one saw. I thought she knew she didn't have to with me, but then where was I? Focused on what I lost, what I witnessed, all the reasons why I don't get attached.

I left in the middle of the night, no questions, no expectations.

I drove through the dark, moonless night, my night vision allowing me to adjust. The warmth was starting to hit me, even though I was only a few hours south. The phone was a dead end. She must have dumped it, afraid of having someone else know where she might be. But her point of last contact was a ten-hour drive, so I headed in that direction. I really hated driving sports cars. I couldn't get a sense of where I was in my surroundings, so close to the road, so detached for everything. I hated the way the engine chirped, not roared like the bike. It fish-tailed at every turn, having all the power driven from the back. This was not going to last long, I kept telling myself.

With all the information from the professor, I narrowed down the options of where she might be heading. I knew Chuck would call, when he found her again, giving me a tighter location. I constantly reminded myself that my goal was not to be angry with what she was doing or had done, but to convince her to come home. At least that's what I thought I needed to do.

I stopped for dinner and a beer in a truck stop not far out of what felt like an endless stretch of suburbia. Small town after small town, signs passing to city after city. I had to get off the major roads anyway; they were getting clogged with traffic. I was the only one in the restaurant, and my waitress was way too happy to help. I could smell a bit of arousal through grease and coffee. I kept my eyes on my plate the whole time. Ten years ago, maybe, but not now.

I was heading out the door when I saw my own reflection in the glass. I almost didn't recognize the image shooting back. A scorn permanently etched across my forehead, the need to shave, dark circles settling under my eyes. Sleeping was not on my to-do list yet. I needed to stay secure with what I was doing. I couldn't put words to that feeling, the idea of Marie dying, the hollowness of her not being anywhere. I was propelled by something so great, so intangible, but I want to feel more of it. For once, I want to be selfish. She doesn't deserve this, what I am. I am meant to destroy, and most people end up dead around me. For now, I need to lie to myself. This is for her, and to make her safe. The animal will believe that.

I felt my pocket vibrate, the rattle going straight through to my bones.

"What do you have?" I really hoped he was going to give me a decent location.

"I have found her at a hotel, as herself for the moment. Mystique is with her."

I knew each one of them before entering any room. Marie may think she can slip by me, but she should know better.

"Keep me informed of any situations that arise. I have a suspicion they are being set up. The damage could be costly."

"I'll call you when I have her, Chuck."

If they are being bated, if someone is trying to make an example of them, it will only add fuel to the fire for Mutant Registration. Rogue and Mystique will become poster children for everything bad those people think that we are. The government takes people dead or alive. I can't let them get to her first.

I pulled up at sunset. The lights glowed, the brass shined. This was a departure from what I was expecting from her. I had no choice but to turn into the valet, but those teenage boys were way too impressed with Cyke's car, so I pulled it close to the building, parked it, and walked away faster than they could keep up.

"Sir, sir, will you be staying..."

"No." Not even turning into their direction.

"The bar then..."

I made it through the revolving doors without them. The lobby was busy, that was in my favor. Headed straight for the elevator, I could detect her, strongly. She had to have been here not long ago. Luck was on my side, a bell hop was in the elevator with me.

"You haven't seen a girl with dark hair, with a white streak?"

His eyes brightened up. He shifted his weight and swallowed hard. He knew her, and he had bad thoughts about her. He also knew where she was.

"Top floor," and he glanced my way, letting out a slight hiss. His eyes traveled, sizing me up. He rushed out the second the doors parted, his floor or not, leaving a trail of fear. I was alone, adrenalin picking up, running through my whole body, I need to reel it in. I wasn't sure about what I was going to find. Would she be angry? Would she be the slightest bit happy to see me?

I could feel the sweat starting to drip down my back, as the elevator stopped and opened. I could smell Marie as thick as ever. The animal started to creep in, trying to take over. I knew which door was hers, and the lock was no match for a claw. I paused, noting that the door was open a crack and I hesitated. I pushed it slowly with one hand, holding my breath.

The sun was setting and cast a red glow over the whole room. I was blinded at first, trying to find her silhouette in the light. But my eyes adjusted, and found nothing, just scrambled sheets and spent mini bar bottles. No bags, no clothes, just the intoxicating smell of her. The animal was enraged, wanting to claim her, and fury burning through me. I had missed her, by minutes or hours, but I still missed her. I wanted to tear through everything in the room, pop my claws and leave nothing untouched. Drag them across the wall, like my signature, a tell tale mark of my presence. I wanted to scream, so wherever she was she could hear me. She brought out the anger I bury deep, the feeling of losing control, rage. Disappointment wrapped all of it. She was never supposed to let me down. What's she forcing me to do now? God only knows what everyone else sees, chasing her half way across the country, Marie running from the shadow I left for her. Would I be doing the same for anyone else? I couldn't honestly say I would have.

I ran down the stairs, all thirteen floors, using the energy to spend my anger. Jumped in the car and peeled out, letting the tires squeal to the delight of the valet boys. I needed to do this on my own, no calls to the professor, no short cuts, allowing my senses and the animal to hunt like it wants to. The reasons, anger and answers will all come later.

I drove on, knowing what was going to happen. Seeing the city laid out in the distance, I knew I had to center myself, tune my senses to everything around me, drop all distractions. I had to separate speculation from facts, stop trying to figure out what motivated what she was doing. I had to stop thinking about the girl I kicked to the side of the road, the girl I felt guilty for after driving away, the girl I stopped the truck for. I can't make reasons or excuses for what I am doing. This isn't for me, this isn't to claim her. I had to save her from a life of regret. We may not all be perfect beings, but the rest of them live for hope of a better life, it has possibilities. Regret only preserves the past, things that are undoable, hopeless to change, and I have enough of that for both of us.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 9 Doing It My Way**_

Laying low meant sticking to motels and bars, the kind of places where people don't actually pay attention to who they're dealing with. Cash is always better than a name. With enough, secrets can be bought and handshake deals can always be broken. I had to get rid of the car. It stood out, and that meant unwanted attention. I was lucky that a paid lot wasn't far from where I wanted to start. I had to let my sense of smell carry me ahead. If she could copy whatever form Mystique took, I could be staring right at her and not know it, but I will never forget what she smells like, even covered up or smothered in god-awful perfume. Underneath it all, it's still Marie.

At this hour, she was probably still hung over. I'd smelled the remnants of a night crashing the mini bar, and the remedy for such things would be the next best thing. No one in that state would be doing much moving. Day light allowed me watch the side walk, locate the bank the professor said will be the location for the set up. Information too conveniently accessible, too easily shared or left to be found. A coffee shop directly across had a window with a bar, perfect for viewing. I grabbed a paper and a cup, and staked out my spot, the door and the alley all within a glance. I watched the guards at the door change and saw an armored truck enter and leave the alley. The guards covering that door packed some heat, fully visible, with extra magazines on their belts. I was beginning to wonder if they were at the ready, planning for an invasion, expecting to combat someone as dangerous as all the fears about every mutant put together. If Marie could only see what she was up against. Five o'clock rolled around, doors closed, lobby lights were turned off. Two guards stayed posted at the door in the alley.

Now that I knew the layout of the bank, it was time to look for Marie. I decided to start at a bar close to four motels. A place where business men would never tell their wives' that they had been. Smoky enough to forget a lot about yourself, dark enough to be a part of the bare-it-all business done around the corner. A waft of air sunk into my chest, a pull, something familiar grabbing deep within, feeling like hesitation and the need to be ready to fight. I closed my eyes to concentrate, trying to single out who it could be. My nerves were excited, and without a further second, Mystique came to mind, as the air became more concentrated with more of her. She was here. God only knew who she was or what she was doing with the assumed banker she was seducing. I froze, eying the door. I had to get out. She knew I would be chasing Marie. If she saw me, they would split, run and any hope of finding Marie would be back to the professor. The bartender came my way. I waved him off for a refill, fumbling a ten out of my pocket, kept my back to the crowd and all but ran out the door. It was dark, the glow of the neon lights gave me a cover to watch through the few windows. A group of suited balding types filled a booth, a woman who looked a lot like Jean was in between the worst looking two. I watched them laugh and smoke, and saw her conivingly never refill her drink. In less than an hour, bottles and empty rock glasses covered the table. She had a talent like no other for making anyone tell her their deepest secrets and getting them drunk was probably the fastest way to do it. I watched the woman stand, and her bare mid drift gave me all the answers I needed. I branded her seven years ago. Her little secret was my way to find Marie.

It wasn't long before she left with only one of the suits, walking to a motel nearby. The sound of her heels on the wet pavement were easier to follow than any other trail. The exterior door to her room was going to make it harder to keep tabs. No lobbies or halls to pass through, no one to remember coming or going. The clerk wasn't hard to convince to give me a room near hers. I listened to how she built his drunk ass up, how he so easily gave in. I could see how they could walk through the other banks with so little resistance. Their little passion play was disgusting, but it didn't last long. I could hear him snoring through the paper thin walls, and then I heard her slip out not long after.

I followed her shadow, watched her change two more times, from the woman who sank the banker, to a man sliding into a gay bar, then to a seductress dressed for the night, even as the sun rose. I buried the memory deep so even the Professor will have trouble finding the history of that night.

The daylight was making it harder to keep a safe distance. Fewer people on the streets in this section of town meant I couldn't get lost in the crowd. The diner she went into was going to be impossible to cover. The glare from the sun off the expansive window meant I couldn't watch from across the street and the bell on the door blew any chance to slip in and hope for a seat at the bar. I grabbed a paper and a pickle bucket and leaned against the phone booth perched not too far from the door. I could at least detect her leaving if she didn't stay in her current form.

Mystique left first, still looking like she could murder a weak-hearted man with one glance and a quick wink. But not too far behind was everything I was waiting for. I knew it was her before my eyes by the outline of her body. Tthe breeze had blown her scent my way, burning me to the core, waking the hunger that I had been controlling for months. Her hair caught a bit of the wind, lifting up a few strands of her white hair that shimmered in the sun. Marie had trailed behind Mystique, rushing to be at her side, and fortunately walking the opposite direction from where I was sitting. Had she seen me, I would have given away my cover with the shock of actually finding her and everything would have been lost.

I was actually glad to see her alive, but I couldn't let the anger take control. I was hoping that what the professor told me wasn't real, or she was doing it against her will. But that little bit of hop in her step led me to believe she was almost enjoying it. I had to mind my distance. I knew she could still have some of my instincts, 10 feet too close and they'd both be off and running.

I watched them duck into an alley, but whether it was an instinctual defensive maneuver or if they knew, even subconsciously, that they were being followed, I wasn't sure. I slipped behind a dumpster catching them in view again, seeing Mystique grab Marie's arm and hold on. Without fear, she didn't flinch, bracing for the pull, a ripple of blue skin swept over her face and down an arm, her body reacting to the force of Marie's touch. Far behind, I watched the streak fade from her long brown hair as it shortened. A change to her posture and her hands as if she had endured years of physical labor. They exchanged a few more words and split ways. Marie stood briefly, trying to accept her new identity, adjusting herself in her clothes, finding a new center of gravity. She started walking toward the entrance to the alley. The dumpster didn't give me as much coverage as a wanted. I caught the site of her face, a change to the color of her eyes, the shape of her chin, large dark circles sitting on top of sunken in cheek bones. She easily hailed a cab, not more than twenty feet away from me, close enough so I could overhear the directions to the driver. She was heading to the bank, and unbeknownst to Marie, she wasn't going alone.

I ran to the paid lot and grabbed Cyke's car. She couldn't be more than a few minutes ahead of me. Driving across the front of her end destination, I got there just in time to see her entering the bank I staked out the day before. I backed into a parking spot under the shadows of a taller building across the street, not knowing if this would be the big sting, or just a scout out. I highly doubted this was the main event. They weren't prepared. They were unarmed. I found myself in the curious position of hoping Marie was carrying a gun, fully loaded, even though it would be for something sinister. I didn't want her caught off-guard, empty-handed if those bank guards got antsy.

She came back out, still looking like the middle-aged haggard woman whose physical identity she had stolen. Marie grabbed another cab, which I followed no more than two car lengths behind, to another hotel where I watched her walk up a flight of stairs to a row of doors. She never lost focus once, letting her true self slip through. Her hair never changed, her skin never showed her true youth. She acted totally alone, never shooting a glance behind her shoulder, hesitating or second guessing any move. She was practiced, her movements easy and graceful, never showing any fear.

I parked at the far end of the open parking lot in front of the motel. A string of similar establishments lined both sides of a four-lane highway, some separated by restaurants and bars, a great place to hide out in the wide open. The constant stream of passing trucks made it hard to concentrate on the mission. I had to convince her to come back with me, I couldn't loose control, I couldn't let anger consume me. I couldn't let the animal lust after her. This was going to be a battle of wills. Hers, the animal, and me trying to tame all of them.

The sound of my boots seemed to echo louder than I was expecting against the metal stairs to Marie's room. It felt like I was announcing myself with a megaphone, blowing the surprise. I didn't know what to expect out of her, the same angst ridden kid that I got on the phone, or would she be primed to actually defend her ground?

I fisted my hand and hovered it over the door, nothing but a few inches of crappy metal holding me back from Marie. I felt the blood drain out of my head, but my face felt so hot. I would trade a firing squad for this feeling right now, this fear of the unknowable reactions of someone you thought you had known.

I let my knuckles hit the cool surface as I tried to conjure the idea to fight. Adrenalin has always been my friend. I felt the metal in my bones smash into the door like a drumstick hitting a cymbal.

Muffled scurrying, and then I hear her voice. "Okay, I'm coming, I'm coming, hang on a second."

That got me going. This time, I had to force myself not to dent the door as I threw my hand harder, peeling paint chips with each whack.

"Alright, alright. What?" The knob turned and in slow motion I heard all the barrels click, and an adhesion of  
grime peel away as she pulled the door open. A quick gasp and a frozen stare of shock grabbed me as our eyes met and locked onto each other. Her pale cheeks flushed with color, and an uneasiness fell upon her, something she has never experienced around me before. I forced my way past her, feeling myself fill the tiny room, not leaving space for much of anything besides the tension.

"Do you have _any_ idea how long it's taken to find you, kid?" Four months, three days, and one sleepless night. But right now she doesn't seem to care. Her eyes kept darting at me and then away, her hands fidgeting, and finally settling as she crossed her arms defensively.

The room smelled beyond lust and sex. A slight beading of sweat around her hair line raised more questions than it answered. Her tight t-shirt gave away her braless bust, sharply outlined underneath the thin fabric. Her hips filled out a low cut pair of jeans, well worn, with a few frays around the pockets, much like mine. One flick of a claw and the animal would get what it wanted so easily, and my god she's no kid anymore. I leaned against a cheap old table, crossed my arms and my feet hoping to hide the affect of being around her once again. The silence was so thick, I couldn't tell if either of us was breathing. She was acting a bit vulnerable and I had to keep the upper hand.

"So what you doin' here kid?" I couldn't really look her in the eye, not like she was reading me either. Clothes were everywhere, looking more like a kid's room at the mansion than an adult managing on her own. "Marie?" That should have chipped at the wall between us. That was a secret we kept together, something personal only I knew.

I swear I heard bugs running under the carpet. I could almost make out a TV on in a room about three doors down. A pin drop would have sound like a bomb exploding for how quiet it was. The shock of my actual presence started to wear off. She adjusted herself and started to speak.

"It's Rogue, And I'm fine." Her accent was a bit played up and thicker. She was lying to herself to try to get it past me.

"That's not what I asked."

A slight wrinkling of her forehead, a narrowing of her eyes, and tightening of her jaw, all so slight she might not have noticed herself what she was doing, but she was pissed. Her large eyes staring at the door as she tried to walk passed me, my hand instantly grabbed her upper arm, almost gripping to her bones. Her muscles were hard, but life on the run let her body lose some of it's strength and endurance. I knew I'd leave a bruise. This time I could smell sex wafting off of her, her cheeks so red, deeper than her lips. I forgot that I was so close to her skin, just beyond the crook of her elbow the sleeve ended that separated my bare hand from her easiest weapon. The heat radiating off both our bodies raised the temperature of our shared personal space. I always wanted to be this close to her, but now is not the time. I let her go after I felt the direction of her energy change, away from bolting out the door.

"What you doin' here?" I have waited for answers. I needed her to tell me something, anything, and right then, I'd have taken a lie just to have something to work with.

"I should be the one asking you that question."

"So ask."

"What if I don't care?"

_Yeah, you do._ I needed to get away for her reacting to everything I was trying to chip at. Just this once, I wished I had the professor in my head. He was good at this stuff, and anymore of this bullshit and I would have thrown her in the car, screaming or not, to get her home.

"Were you alone?" She rolls her eyes, lets out a held breathe like she wished it was fire searing my skin off.

"Alone? Well, I am now. Back window. You scared him. He thought you were my boyfriend returning."

_Right, sure._ Why didn't she try to lie a bit smarter? She knew better than that. Quiet fell over us again, the corners of her lips turned up slightly, like she was going to laugh about something, but she seemed to like playing with the idea of blackening her virtue.

"So, you come here just to discuss my sex life?"

"Marie-"

"It's not how I pay my way or anything, or at least, not anymore," Matter of fact, so casual, so practiced, but she had apprehension falling off her faster than Niagara Falls.

I slid forward slightly until my face was inches away from her, even closer than last time. I could see the pulse throbbing down her throat, the angle of her shoulders fell towards her neck. How intoxicating she was becoming.

"Strange that I can only smell one scent then. Yours." _Try something better next time._

I couldn't tell what she was more disappointed in at that moment, herself for thinking that would work, or that I was winning this little game.

"Go away, Logan."

"No."

"So what? You just gonna stand there all day?"

"I think that you've got some explainin' to do." I still hadn't gotten her trust to come back to the mansion with me.

"In what way?"

"Well for a start you can explain why the hell you took off!" I knew I should have thought about that one before it slipped. If I could have rewound time, even for a brief second, that would have been it. She exploded on the inside, trying her best to contain all hate she held for me at that moment.

"What right have you to care? You weren't there!"

"It doesn't matter where I was. I get this call from 'Ro, then another from Jubilee sayin' you'd gone missing. They thought you were with me."

"So what, they don't own me. I can do what I like."

"They don't _own_ you? Kid, they care about you. They were your friends! D'you have any idea what you put them through?"

"Look, spare me the lecture, okay? Why are you here? Have they sent you to come and get me? Am I a mission now?"

"Come to take you home. Where it's safe."

I can't let any idea form in her mind that I know what she has been doing, what she might walk into. It feels so wrong to let her walk into that trap.

"You're livin' in a motel room."

"It suited you fine for long enough."

"That's different." That's the only way I knew how to live, the only way that felt safe for the first few years.

"Ha ! Yeah. Right. You say it often enough maybe even you will start believing it."

"Marie." She can't go there right now. I'm not going to handle this for much longer. She wants to fight, she'll get one.

"My _name_...is _Rogue_." And with that something pops, trying to push past me, but I stop her again, her energy focused so hard on that door. Rage is creeping bit by bit. One of us going to get set off.

"It ain't that easy, kid. Didn't come all the way down here just to have you walk out on me."

"And what? You think you can stop me?" Anger, adrenalin, and hating everything I have come to represent was taking over for her. I had to get control back.

"Why are you doing this? Thought you were happy back at the Mansion."

"You don't notice much do you?"

"I wasn't around much."

"I know!"

"Was that a problem?" We had never talked about what it was that we were to each other ever. I always thought it was for the best to stay away, lost moments I will always regret.

"No. Why would it be?"

"Then why are you out here? What d'you want?"

"What I _want_ is to be left alone."

"Is it because of that boy? Drake?"

"What?"

"Kid, when you run away, you run away from somethin'."

"Well, you oughta know."

"Somethin' made you hurt."

"No something did not make me hurt. I'm fine."

"Was it the cure?" I'm picking at straws, and I hesitate to state the obvious.

"Was it me?" Long silence. I watched her swallow hard, not sure if she was holding back tears, trying to stay ready to fight. "Marie?"

"Not everything is about you. The only person that this is about, is me. Not you. Not Bobby. Not anyone else at that FUCKING mansion. Just me. My choice."

She was grabbing the last of her stuff, getting ready to run away from me this time. She stopped in front of me, but looked at the floor, inhaled a slow, deep breath, let it out again. "I don't have a life there anymore. Let me go."

"Kid..." She finally edged her way past me, the only barrier between her and her exit to her screwed up life. "Wait-"

"No." Without hesitation, she grabbed my arm, with her bare hand, and I wasn't sure if I forgot to react, to pull away, out of shock at her actually using her skin as a weapon against me, or because I knew I had to keep her from seeing my mindset. I had to guard what she would see. The sting was almost impossible to bear. As the light around me faded and I felt my legs give out, the last thing I saw was the silhouette of Marie shutting the door behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 10 Sniffing and Whiskey**_

When I got my wits back, it was already dark, and raining. Any trail of a scent would be washed away, but she was on foot, no car, or keys for that matter were in her possession, so she had to be walking. In that weather, she couldn't have gone far, if she stayed alone. I hedged my bets, and started the slow crawl of the search. The rain began to amplify the stench of the part of town both fugitives had been calling home, drunken escapades, filth and piss, all brought out by the wet. Monsoons could never wash it away, and once it gets on you, no amount of even the holiest water can clean it off. This was not her home.

Fury couldn't come close to how enraged she made me. Anger is too small a word for it. I had to remind myself over and over again this will be for the better. That was just the first part of the battle. This would have the strategy of the war inside Rogue. I couldn't call the professor yet. I was not going to admit losing that battle. It was more of a stalemate than a loss. Still, eventually my luck had to change; I deserved to find her again. I would deal with what she did to me later.

After a couple of hours, I went to the room already in my name. I needed to rest. Her pull-her gift-was different now. I felt more drained than I ever had. Something had changed about how she held on, the force of it. She had to have learned a bit to control it, something not so purely accidental or out of desperate need. It was like she wanted it to hurt. The way she walked out, she knew she hurt me and was glad of it.

The morning came fast, and with it the questions I put off about what Rogue would do next. I thought, more like hoped, she didn't squeal and run, that I hadn't let on about how much I knew about their little plan. I hoped she thought of me as more of a coincidental speed bump, a skeleton from the closet of her past. If that was the case, then she might not have covered her tracks completely and finding her again shouldn't be too hard.

What didn't work the night before paid off when I saw her walking away from the crappiest looking motel room, not carrying anything, neither primed nor hesitant. No car was waiting. That allowed me to believe she and Mystique were keeping their distance from each other, still each with their own missions. I watched her leave the area, then popped the lock on the room and had a look at what she kept dragging around from our first interaction.

The room was small, run down, looked like it should rent by the hour and smelled like forty years of smoke and vomit permanently etched into the faded, peeling wallpaper. She only had one duffel, clothes and shoes spewing out like an explosion, but no guns. No I.D.s with fake names, fraudulent licenses or paper trail if things went bad. No bags of money, or any money for that matter. They must be doing their homework, getting rid of the paper. She must have anything incriminating with her at all times. Seeing what was there told me she traveled like I did. Never holding on to too much, because stuff just holds you down. Anything that's lost is replaceable. She was living more like a hermit, less like a bank robber.

I thought about staying until she returned, but what she did to me before lead me to think it would have been more than a fight, and that was not my goal. I went back to Cyke's car, grabbed some food, and staked the place out for the rest of the afternoon.

She returned alone, not long after the bank closed, but one hour later came out dressed like a hooker-boots up to her ass with heels I wouldn't have believed anyone could balance on. She was up to no good. Not too long later, a man, looking more like a pimp, came from behind. With the familiarity of each other's body language, I had to guess it was Mystique. They both continued to a parking garage and hopped into a gleaming red truck. They had a truck. Extremely noticeable and memorable. They must be gaining too much confidence to be driving something like that. Or getting just plain stupid.

I kept my distance, following them to an older but trendy side of town, sidewalks lined with small trees with lighting strung through them, narrowing roads of one way streets. They valeted the truck and went into a bar with some name written in scribble, the kind of place I stay as far away from as possible. Over-priced fruity drinks, wine in glasses not meant to be touched, women drenched in perfume and fake nails, a 180 from the cage I'm so familiar with.

I parked a few blocks away, and walked in behind a group of artsy earth movers, overhearing a conversation about an exhibit of painted nudes. Yeah, I fit in this place like a fly in milk.

I grabbed a booth overlooking the dance floor, lit a cigar and took a slow drag, hiding myself in the shadow of the smoke. It felt good to feel the pricks of hot air in my lungs. A waitress, dressed all in black, made it to my table, a bit annoyed to actually address me.

"What can I get for you...", I finally got to see her face as she bent in to hear me.

"Whiskey, rocks"

"Irish, American, or Canadian...? Sir, do you have a preference? "

_Holy FUCK! __All I want is a goddamn drink! AWWWWWWW_

"Canadian" I bit back down on my cigar.

"Would you like a sample platter of our award winning appetizers?"

I was really getting fed up with this pansy-ass shit "NO, just a drink, and when you see it empty, bring me another!"

She was starring straight at me then, not even batting a eye lash. She put her note pad in her apron, turned on her heel and walked far away from the bar. It was going to be a while before I got that drink.

I could hear Rogue's laughter from a booth not too far from my own. What did she think I planned on doing, riding home with my tail between my legs? I think not. The waitress returned with my drink and slid it across the table without even breaking her step. As she walked away, Rogue hit the dance floor with dumb fuck number one of the evening. They did their little bump and grind for way too long. Rogue turned to break away from his grasp, and that's when she noticed me. Stunned, I'm not sure, but not exactly happy to see me, or to be seen with Mr. Grab Ass. I could hear though the music what they were saying, but she dropped her drunk self to the floor, laughing uncontrollably. I'd had enough.

"Get out of here Bub.." I met Dumb Fuck's eyes and he got the idea she wasn't his to get frisky with anymore and left her on the floor, me brooding over her.

"Up. Now." I really didn't want to make a scene.

"I don't want to get up."

Fine, I could drag her if that was what she wanted.

"That hurts! Stop it. That's just...mean...".

I lifted her into the booth, and probably too hard forced her to sit down. She tried to focus, but she was too far gone and giggled in a ' little school girl on her first night getting drunk behind Daddy's back' kind of way. The look on my face must have terrified her, because she did everything she could to try to rein it in.

"You finished?" Does she remember what she did a little more than 24 hours ago? Keep laughing baby girl. "Get a fucking grip." Two can play her game, and I can win really fast. I let one claw pop just enough to nick the arm I was holding, which was about the only thing holding her up in the seat.

"OW! That HURT!"

"You know what kid? I don't care. Now we're even. And if you don't start behaving, it's gonna hurt a whole lot more."

"Shhh, You're shouting."

"Oh believe me, _Rogue_, I'm not. I come out here," I almost couldn't form words, the anger of the last few months seemed to be coming out all at once, at a drunk Marie, who could give a shit about anything right now, "I come to find you and you try and kill me?"

She rolled her eyes like I didn't get let in on a joke, "I didn't try and _kill_ you."

"You ever and I mean _EVER_ try a stunt like that again, so help me kid I don't care who you are or what promises I made. I'll slice that pretty skin o' yours from navel to fuckin' _nose_. GOT IT?" I was seeing red. Any more and I would have whipped the ceiling with her, which would have gotten a bit of attention.

"Cross my heart, hope to die... Or not. Hey, are we done now?" She wasn't even looking at me, more at what she was missing on the dance floor. A new glass landed on my table. I knocked it back and swallowed the whole shot while still holding on to her arm, which was oozing.

Marie was lost at this point, and it was no use to keep trying to get her to her senses. I let go slightly, which became her inch to run a mile with, climbing the table, ass to the world, back among a mob of people half drunk themselves. I dropped a twenty and left, not caring if Mystique saw me. I couldn't have cared less if that bar burned down at that very moment. I needed to get air. I never intended to hurt her. I never thought I would have lost that much control with her. Storm could have taken over, or we could have all given up on her, but I couldn't and still wouldn't give in to what could have been so easy as walking away. I took a good deep breath of air, humid from the passing rain. I was digging for my car key, when I heard a pair of high heels trying to stay up right coming out of the bar. I knew it was Marie, before I even turned around. Something had gotten to her, or she wouldn't have left without Mystique. I stayed in the shadow, while she tried to get a cab. It pulled away without her, desperation had given in to the drunken stupor that was hitting her hard. She leaned against the wall and passed out, alone, with no one to pick her up. I swallowed the idea that I wasn't doing this to protect her. I just gave up that promise, right? I still couldn't come up with a reason while I put her in the car, driving her to my motel room, knowing I would have to patch her up in the morning, hopefully on our way back to Westchester.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 11 Fool Me Once...**_

To say dragging a passed out drunk kid to my hotel was uneventful could not have been farther from the truth. She threw up on herself, in the car, then on me as I had to lift her to bed. I let her have the bed to herself; the chair was my refuge for the rest of the evening. Nothing but crap on TV. The only interesting event to even speak of? I found out Marie talks in her sleep. Full conversations, with whoever happened to be in her head. I knew I had to be one of them. I tried not to listen; my own guilt will not help her. She needs to figure out some of it on her own, to stop being angry - at me, at her friends, at herself. She needs to accept her reality, figure out what makes her happy, and I am going to be the one to push her to it.

The sun warms the curtains. I pull them back to see if it will stir her. It is morning. I want to get on the road. The groan tells me she is regretting being alive. If she can hold down water, she can do a lot more, like clean herself up. I grab a glass from the bathroom, force it into her hand, but her balance still hadn't returned.

"Drink."

I detect embarrassment, disappointment and something I can't put into words flowing off of her, underneath the putrid stench of vomit and alcohol still running through her system. She is a goddamn mess, something even the fighter in her would recognize if she'd just look in the mirror.

"'M I still alive?"

"Apparently."

She is sitting upright, like a heap, squinting from a berating sun. "I thought I told you to leave me alone."

No thanks, no apology for the last time, but let's argue. Just looking at her was bringing out the animal. It was lurking and harder to control;, it wanted her, no matter how screwed up she was.

"What?" Her reaction was laced with sarcasm, like she was in any condition to actually verbally weasel her way out of this.

"You're a mess, and you stink..."

"Well...you have vomit on your shirt!"

"It's yours," I snap. This isn't going to turn into a shouting match. _I DON"T NEED THIS_, I what to scream so fucking loud, she would go deaf. I was getting to the point where I couldn't stand smelling her, the remnants of last night making a slaughter house seem like a spring breeze. She doesn't look any better, just closer to losing it again, so I force another glass of water in her hand.

She concentrates on it like it's supposed to dance. I want to slap her across the face and tell her to get it together, but that would knock her out again. An unconscious girl in my room would raise all kinds of red flags with the cleaning staff.

"Here, take this and go clean up." I dropped a shirt in her lap. My last clean shirt for the trip, so she better appreciate it. "Your excuse for a top is filthy."

She didn't do any better walking than she'd done the night before. The klutz walked right into the closet, still looking confused. I let her think about it for the moment; she was still looking for answers after all.

"Closet, kid. Bathroom's that way." The slam of the door probably compounded that headache of hers far worse than the embarrassment. After an hour, I was getting sick of the sound of the shower running, but the one thing I had in my favor was that there was no bathroom window. Her only escape was through me if she got it into her head to try it.

"You comin' out any time today?" I'm not waiting all day.

After a few more minutes, she finally leaves the bathroom, her scent in all the steam precedes her. Everything I have been fighting within myself starts to break loose as she walks past me in just my shirt. The animal and morals do not fit within the same mind, and the animal was beginning to win. She curls herself up in a chair, I focus harder on the TV. She cannot undo me.

"Logan? You bring me to your lair, and now you're just going to ignore me?"

_Yep, and for your own good._ "I've nothin' to say to you kid." She tries to open her mouth and start spewing all the bullshit that she tried to pull on me before. "Leave it. I don't wanna know."

"But-"

"Leave it." It wasn't what she was expecting, and I hadn't really thought about it either, but she had to want to come back, or she would just run off again.

"So that's it? I can go?"

"I'm not your keeper. Do what you want." I had to leave the room, I had to get away from her scent, from the idea of ripping her shirt off and marking her as mine, claiming her against her will. I use it as an excuse to go into the bathroom to grab her clothes form the night before.

"You're not gonna try and convince me to go back to the Mansion again?" .

She brought it up, not me, "Would it make any difference if I did?"

"No"

"Then there would be no point, would there?" I shove the pile into her hands. This is actually pissing her off, that I'm not pining over her, begging her to come back.

"So what's this? Take your clothes, get out and have a nice life?"

"Your choice, kid." Not the answer she was hunting for, she gets all huffy and storms back into the bathroom. I can tell she is trying to figure out how she's going to get out of there in just my shirt. Last night's disaster of an outfit is covered in vomit and she's hesitant to put them back on.

"Can I borrow a belt or something?" She tried getting my attention away from the TV, acting through panic and desperation.

"I can't go out like...Not unless I want to be arrested anyway."

She wasn't really getting the message, "Not my problem."

"Please..." I was setting her off for a fight she knew she was going to lose.

"Like I said, not my problem."

"Oh come on, these are a mess!"

Take her current situation out of the equation, get rid of her argument. I grab the mess out of her hands, throw them in the trash can and light them. I will be the first to say that alcohol burns faster when it's straight out of the bottle, but in this case, puked back up works just as well.

"Hey, What did you do that for? They could've been washed!"

"So what? I'm supposed to care? You're out here fuckin' up your life and I'm supposed to give a damn about what you wear?"

"Well it would be a start!"

"What the HELL do you think I'm here for, huh? Vacation?"

"How about obligation, huh? Guilt? Boredom? I don't know. They're the usual reasons. Pick one. I don't care!"

She doesn't think I cared. I don't know how to respond to that. If she only knew what I did for her. The adrenalin running off of her, her body so visible under my shirt. I had to step away. I couldn't even tell what she wanted, besides being left alone.

The air was heightened and the silence was bothering her, the fidgeting, acting like she didn't know what to do with herself.

"Y'know, I am sorry for the other day. I didn't plan on hurting you." She was waiting for me to react, maybe melt a little, start to give in. "You just... you surprised me."

Like any other street hustler, trying to help an old lady cross the street, while robbing her blind, I could see through everything she was trying to do.

"And I'm sorry for last night."

"Thought you were leavin', not making conversation."

"I'm still here because I'm still half naked!"

She needs to work on her desperate face, cause she's doing too much expecting at this point. "You're covering up more than you did last night." _Right back at' ya, kid!_

"How nice of you to notice."

I really don't want to notice. I don't want to see how much she has changed, her cut abs, the angle of her waist to her hips, her nipples holding the shirt out from her. I watch her intently go from desperate to fucked, losing control, going through drawers, ripping through anything that could be of use to her. I slipped on gloves, without her noticing. This time, I was going to be prepared.

"What?" She's glaring at me, sweat was beading under her eyes, as she starts to head to my bag. I flick her hand away before she can get to it, swift and hard.

"What do you want?" I ask, as if that had an easy answer, or maybe I'm just hoping to get her to understand that I really want to know.

"All I want from you is this." Her hand quickly goes to my waist, hovering right over my belt buckle. I'm faster, pinning her hand against the wall, her body slammed hard as well.

I let the anger grind into my voice, "Don't test me kid. You have no idea."

She was so shocked when I actually thrust against her, she put her other bare hand against my chest as leverage, to maybe keep me at bay. My face was too close for her to grab, so I let out a claw to remind her I was the one in control, I could still be faster. "What game are you tryin' to play here?"

Sweat dripping from her forehead, and fear pumping my adrenalin through her veins, she knew she had to be really careful. I am also fighting the animal. For now, I have control, but I could have slipped and done so much more. Every breath is more of her. I can feel the tips of her fingers brushing across my chest.

"If you have any spare clothes that aren't huge, that could solve all this." Seductive, her eyes fell off mine and dropped to where her hands could go, the heat flowing off my body, sweat dripping down my back. Her neck is so close, the steadiness of her pulse threw more of her at me than I knew what to do with. It was everything the animal wanted, but it was also every nightmare I ever had in the bargain.

"Do you have anything, other than your shirt, that would fit me?" Marie's hands at the top of the buckle, she could have undone it herself, but now she's playing games.

"No,"

The sides of her lips curl up so slightly. She's playing me for all she's worth, while I'm caging the animal on the inside. It wants to feel everything, taste her sweat, feel her wetness, make her scream.

She's pulled the buckle off and is trying for more. My hand holding hers to the wall is ready to take her by the neck, to throw her against the bed. My mouth is full of spit to tongue her breasts.

"Marie. I said no." If she had done anything more I would have lost control, and the only way to get her to stop is to give her what she is after. I'll lose her again. She brought me to this point, something I had shielded her from, and I have to let her go to protect her from the feral side. I have no choice.

Forcing her hand off the buckle, and dropping the other, I pull the belt off in one pull, throwing it in her hands, not breaking eye contact for a second. "Take it. And get out."

She turns and leaves, running without hesitation. I am left with the scent of her surrounding everything, and more frustrated than I have ever been.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 12 Morality is for Fairy Tales...Dragons and the Tallest Tower..._

The half hour drive to the middle of nowhere doesn't relieve the frustration, the aggravation, the everything, the nothing, Marie under my skin. I should just do what she wanted me to do - leave her alone. She doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. She didn't want anything to do with her life at the mansion, and I should have let go of my promise the minute she took my belt and ran out on me. Still, it's getting harder and harder to keep driving away, knowing what she'll encounter on her current path, the pain, the regret, not to mention what could happen if she's captured - if they take her alive.

She relieved me from my promise, didn't she? When she said she didn't care, then I shouldn't have cared either. If I'm going to let go, then I will be the monster, the feral animal, no purpose, a life with no meaning. I can't allow myself to be like that again. I won't. I have no memory of my past, but I know I could live long enough to create a new one, with her, with all of them. That's what I tell myself as I turn the car around and go back for her.

I leave the car in an alley, not far from the bank, through a dark side street, closed on three sides, no lights to speak of. It was a perfect place to keep the car, and to drag her, without drawing much attention. Her anticipation to leave, her desperation, it all pointed to them taking the bank tonight. As I round the corner back to the coffee house, flashes of red and blue blare against the brick and glass. Sirens blow through my ears. I hear breaking glass in the distance. A well of emptiness pulls at my gut. I am too late. Police cars and armored trucks cover the intersection. I can smell gunmetal and sweat from the uniformed bodies I can see. I doubled their number in my head, accounting for everyone else I could imagine inside.

I grab the phone to call the professor. It's going to get bloody, but no matter what happens, no one's body is going to the government in a body bag.

"Logan, what is your status"

"The team, now. You have my position?"

"Yes."

"Tell them to stay outside the city until they hear from me."

"Do you have Rogue?"

"I will!"

The team is on it's way. While the cops are dealing with Mystique, I'll grab Rogue. All bases covered, right? Then why is that pit of dread still in my stomach?

I walk away from the center of the attack, crossing the street to the side of the bank, trying to play an innocent bystander, no eye contact, focus directly on the ground. I slip into a doorway of abandoned store front, a plan to getting in my only obstacle. I use the escape stairs to hop the rooftop. Using the parapet as cover, avoiding the barricade, a slide down a drain pipe, slipping though the uncovered side door.

Their insurgence has already started. Hearing shot after shot, I can't tell the caliber of the shots as they echo off the glass and marble. The front door is covered. The side alley door isn't, the two guards from that having already joined the fight. It seems to easy to walk right in and I fear I'm walking into the trap set for Rogue and Mystique. I follow the sounds, vicious as they are. A pile of bodies lays before me. Some are still alive. No blood, no burn of gun fire surrounding them. She had to have touched them. They'll be OK, if they ever wake up.

As I continue, their trail begins to turn deadly, faces unrecognizable, limbs bent beyond repair. Rogue lost control, but she wasn't alone, either. The evidence of their ruthlessness lays in heaps on the floor, blood streams out of pools trickling down the white marble stairs. Flashes from the police car lights highlight even more splattered against the high walls. The first shot through the front glass doors draws me into the main lobby. My first scan of the room catches Mystique climbing the walls going through the large hole that was a window, her escape unnoticed.

All eyes are on Rogue, she still has a gun in her hand, shaking, too unsteady to shoot. She turns with fluidity, her body swaying, then one last pop, through her side. Blood splatters against the shattered tempered glass. Her silhouette slumps to the floor, as I let the animal out of its cage.

I slowly let the claws out, the sound of metal echoing through the lobby, a rumble in my chest came with the heat of a fight. The scent of her blood is everywhere, amplifying the need to protect her. No one even flinches in the bank. They're dead or out cold, but a new group of cops lays waiting behind cruisers out front. Movement near the broken window means they're going to start crawling in. Hunched in the shadows, I make it to the front door and slide my arm around Marie. My boots against the broken glass littering the floor gives away my position to the cops just a few feet away from me. I hear them arm their weapons. I can see the beams of their sites searching for anything not in a uniform. They're going to rush fast, all I have to be is faster.

With one easy lift, I have Marie slung over my back, but the shots are getting closer. I feel a few hit my back. I know one more hits Marie. I make it out of the lobby, back to the stairwell to the vault. I can hear them coming in, assessing the lobby, not knowing if they are hunting for me. I duck into an empty office, laying Marie on the floor behind the desk. I can still hear the heavy thug of boots carrying the weight of trained, armed officers off in the distance. I know I haven't much time.

I grab her face. She's still breathing, but there isn't any pull, just like Liberty Island. It seems useless. I only have a few more seconds before I have to run. I need to help heal her. I lift her shirt to see two holes oozing out blood. Remembering the third wound in her back, I place my hand on her stomach. My fingers started to twinge. I force myself to let go, but I know it wasn't enough. I grab both her cheeks, my own face so close to hers I almost fall into her, but there is no more. That's all I can give her at that moment. It's going to have to be enough.

No one is coming down the hall, but I can detect at least three out the side door. I hear the heavy footsteps of even more coming from the lobby. Gunning for the side door means I can split the team. Most are still surveying the aftermath, which leaves fewer to get through running out. I have to carry her through the side door and past the barricade; it was the only way.

I round the corner with her over my shoulder, which means I can only use one hand to defend both of us. Two masked guards come first. They shoot; I deflect. My claws cut through their Kevlar . I can't let them call for back up. They are the first of many useless deaths tonight. I make it outside, more uniformed cops coming my way. I drop Marie against the wall. I need both hands to make it out of here.

"Stay with me kid." She slumps over awkwardly. Her eyelids flutter and I realize she is conscious. "Kid?"

The rattle of metal and magazines turns my attention back to the crew coming at us. I flex my claws, eyeing the gun barrel at point blank range. I'm still able to slice into his chest, pulling him down in the process. Blood sticks to my fingers, whose blood- his or my own-I don't really care. The burn of gun fire, adrenalin and hate filled the enclosed area. Blows to my shoulders only propelled me further. Clenched teeth and anger-filled eyes greet me. There is no fear in any of them as the animal dices through them. They are trained to kill or be killed. These are fighters, sent here for this very thing, not mace totting rent-a-cops.

"Who you working for?" I growl at one unlucky enough to be caught my grasp. My sweat pooling off my hands onto his throat, his fierceness defies any logical need to save himself. I slap him hard; it's rude to not speak when spoken to. "I said, who THE FUCK do you work for?" Forcing his body against the wall, my fist hovers over his head. He knows what will come to him; he saw his fellow comrades fall before him.

"Last chance." Blood makes his lips red like cherries, the corner of his eyes creases as he smiles. His secret is one he will keep.

"Fuck you," he answers, knowing he will be added to the heaps of unmarked bodies, his blood joining his comrades' in the gutter and the alley glistening dark red. My body hums to the core. Vengefully disobeying, my claws shoot out on their own and my eyes watch his life fade. The threat neutralized, the animal pulls back, pleased with itself.

I hear a gasp. I smell fear, shock, and it's coming from Marie. She's got a front row seat to see what I become, all berserk rage and uncontrolled energy, ending all before me, but for what? For her? Is this what she really wants?

"Get up kid." We needed to keep moving. No one noticed my little rampage. They were all still concentrating on the inside. "Get up!"

"I don't think I can."

"Get up." Still panting, I finally look towards her. She's struggling to get to her feet. She's in no shape to make it on her own. "You have a car?"

"Yes." I can see her concentrating, biting her lip, her balance faltering. And then, "...no" which comes out more as a whisper.

"Fuck." I see more lights pull into area, illuminating our escape route. I pull her off the ground, my body radiating heat against her cold skin. She closes her eyes. I feel her blood running down my arm. I huddle down at the edge of the alley, watching more cops pour out of armored vehicles. Luckily, they're looking at the front of the building.

The clicking sound of shoes behind me. A beam of light coming from the open door. I'm going to have to run. I wait until the last door of the cars in front of me slams shut, then duck and run away from the center of it all. I hear a whistle from behind me. Someone caught sight of us in the street lights. The blockade holds them back, buying me a precious few seconds before anyone can take off our way. I make it to the car, lay her in the seat and drive away just as the herd of cruisers comes screaming after us.

I grab the phone off the dash to call the team. A full brigade makes getting to the Blackbird that much harder.

"Storm, where are you?"

"Logan, we are 10 miles out. Where can you meet us?"

"I've got company. Find something, away from the city. We're going to have to do this fast."

"Understood, I've got you on our scans. There is a clearing to the north. I can land there."

"Can you give me some cover?"

"I'll see what I can do."

The S.W.A.T. team is still behind us, tight to our tail. I turn my headlights off, relying on the infrared navigation and my own senses. The road hugs to the side of the hill, pines high on the low side, bare rock on the other, making driving in darkness more complicated then I'm really used to.

With Marie in the seat next to me, I keep one ear on her breathing. There's very little pattern. She needs to get to the med bay fast. She's lost a lot of blood. The gunshot wounds are around her spleen, and one through her chest. I couldn't heal her enough to make them stop completely. I need to drive, to get to the Blackbird. Storm will land near the clearing. I have to meet her there. I can hear the chopper above my head, but it's fading into the distance. Just concentrate on driving. I smell blood, fresh blood, she must be oozing out again. I want to touch her again, but I have to drive to get us out of here.

"Logan?" It's a dry whisper,

"Don't move," I have to force her down. She's getting cold. "Haven't been able to heal you properly yet. Right now I need to drive." I need to get to Storm. Hank should be at the mansion right now. I need to get her home. Home…

"I wanted..." wet breathing, gurgles, "...I didn't-" Delirium, no focus, but she breathing. I need to drive.

"Save it, kid." I look her way. Her face is white, ghost like, blue almost with only the moon lighting us. "Now's just not the time, okay?" Breathe, we're almost there.

"Are they...?"

"Yes." Behind us, I'm still ahead by half a mile at most. I need to keep the upper hand.

"Where's..." She's coughing up blood again. The bullet must have nicked an artery. "Where is-?"

"The blue wench?" That fucking bitch got her into this,

"I didn't... don't worry."

Yeah, that's right I won't worry, "I don't know. She took off not long after I got there." I'll split her navel to nose next time.

Fear started rolling off of her. She was scared. I looked over at her, her eyes were closed. I got a hint of salt. She must be crying, trying to hide it.

"Dammit!" I felt the car fishtail, and lost control of the back end. I felt the door crumple when it hit the guard rail. I heard the sound of glass shattering, then nothing.

_Pain everywhere. Sounds overlapping, yet very distant. The wetness of fog cooling the inside of my chest. Was it Ro? Not sure if they made it. I know it's bad. I'm so cold. I need to stay awake. It's our only way out. The roof crumples further, yet I strangely don't care._

_"Marie?" I don't hear her breathing. She was hurt already. Oh,God! This is all my fault. "Marie, you need to get out, please, get out..." _

_The smell of burning, the unmistakable squeal of metal twisting, feeling weightless. _

_"OH, MY GOD... Colossus, Gambit, take him to the Blackbird. Kitty, stay with Rogue until Colossus can get her out..."_

_"Storm, I'm going to need everything out of the Blackbird just to stablizer her..."_

_Mist against raw skin, joints dangling out of place, her life fading from mine... _

_Words blurring into the background, no will to move, every ounce of energy trying to find her though the smoke, the haze for cover, but I could only find fear..._


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 13 Never Show Your Weaknesses(Desert Thirst and Ocean Water)**_

The med bay. I made it to the medbay. I know by the sound, the way it makes sound echo. The smell of disinfectant bites through the tubes up my nose. My head hurts. Hell, _everything_ hurts. My eyes have trouble adjusting to the light. I can smell blood everywhere, mine, Marie's. I can hear Hank, yelling commands, but I'm not sure what he's saying. Shapes are still blurry. Machines are bleeping. I notice the gurgle of air bubbling through blood, the unmistakable snap of paddles.

"Logan, you need to stay down." The professor, talking to me in my head. "You have received a large gash to your abdomen. You have lost a lot of blood. Your healing factor has been reduced significantly." His warm hands encompass my head, gentle. Calm, I feel calm, I know Marie is home, she is safe. I rest.

The room sounds quieter this time. Hank's not yelling. Machines aren't blaring. I open my eyes. Kitty is standing next to me. She smiles.

"Hank, he's awake." She writes something down on her clip board. "Good to see you came back, Logan."

My throat is really dry, my head still wavering. I sit up. The skin on my chest is a little tight, raw.

"You can't sit up yet, you still have stitches." Kitty tries to push me down. "Hank!"

Hank forces me down with both hands to my shoulders. They ache a bit. Surprisingly, I lose the bit of balance I had, and give up.

"Logan, you are still not completely healed. You have to lay down. You have had a lot of healing to make up for. Do you remember what happened?"

I look into his eyes to find deep concern, fear. Something he never shows. She must be in rough shape.

"Where's Rogue?"

"She's stable, for now. You need to rest,"

"I'm fine." I sit up and feel the pull under my chest. My head blurs out. I'm not used to this sluggish, dazed feeling. I swing me feet over the side, regretting it immediately.

"Logan, I will not let you leave, if I have to put you in restraints myself."

"Try it, Bub,"

"You know I'll win." I hate it when he right. I know if I tried to even walk five feet away from this bed, I wouldn't make it that far.

I pull my head up enough to see down the expansive room. I see the bed where she is laying, but I can barely see Marie. Machines surround her, tubes and hoses cover the view of her face. I can see her arms, covered in deep bruises.

"The accident took its toll on her body. It will be touch and go for a while."

"She got shot three times, I tried to heal her some, before running." I couldn't do enough. It was my fault. The accident was my fault.

"I know, the blood loss doesn't help the situation any. The car crumpled around her, shattering her spine, the entire thoracic and lower cervical vertebrate, among other things. Your body was on top of her when they finally got to you. There must have been some transfer of healing capabilities to help her enough until we got her stable. She is still not out of the woods."

"I can help her now!" I must be missing something. It's not adding up.

"Logan you need to rest. You could kill yourself. You body has not repaired itself enough to help her."

I lose all energy to fight. I sit back on the bed and lean over to soothe my head. Words slur together, chills shudder through me. Someone pulls the covers back over me. I keep my eyes closed out of exhaustion, but I won't let myself sleep. I listen to the machine keeping Marie alive. The rhythm is enough to concentrate on. The beeping gives me something to keep me awake.

I realize I haven't heard Hank leave the room. He's stayed by her side constantly monitoring her progress. I can't smell her through the bite of the alcohol and disinfectant. I can smell everyone but her. I should have done more to protect her. I should have grabbed on and forced her to come back with me before she ever got to the bank, I am the only one to blame for her being so broken.

How did I let it get to this? Why did she knock me out at the hotel? I was standing there looking at Marie, but that name belongs to the girl I met in Laughlin City, not the mess lying in that bed. Marie doesn't instigate to kill people, creating harm for herself, using her mutation for vengeance. She crossed that line, the thin line between an outlaw on the run and martyrdom. But she pulled me into to it to. It will take me a long time to forgive her. I killed, brutally, for no other purpose that to save her. Rogue was robbing that bank. The guards were doing what they were supposed to be doing, protecting assets. This wasn't based on mutants being held against their will. This wasn't a played out morality tale. This was someone else's revenge. And Rogue was wrapped up in it.

I have to wonder how much she hurt to be a part of something totally opposite to everything she was taught for the last seven years. What made her rebel, so viciously, heinously give in to stealing, setting herself up to get killed? She wanted to disappear, and she found a way to do it. I think maybe anyone that lost, that alone, would think it an option better than slitting their own wrists. It is someone else pulling the trigger, but lining yourself up with the bullet. If that is the case, I've already lost her. She is just as hollow as me.

The heart rate monitor starts to speed up, breaking into my thoughts, I listen as Hank starts to rush around her.

"Moira, check her temp, the last thing she needs now is a fever. I don't see any redness coming from the pin in her leg. Kitty, grab me a iv bag of anti-…"

I finally let go, enter the blackness of sleep. I need to be stronger for her…

"Homme, wake up. Logan." Remy, announced as usual by the unmistakable stench of stale cigarette smoke.

I open my eyes. My head is clearer. When I sit up, I don't feel the pain this time. Hank is sleeping in a chair by Marie's bed. No one else is puttering around in the room. I figure it must mean things are getting better.

"I'm breaking you out of here. Breakfast is upstairs and you need to eat. Anyway, I'm sick of teaching your classes." Narcissistic, a bit isn't he?

My bare feet hit the cold floor, sending chills up my spine. It stopped me a little, a hesitation he picks up on.

"You gonna make it?" We keep going toward the elevator. He's a step behind me, guarding.

"Yeah, just getting my bearings. I need to change first. I'll meet you down there."

"You're not getting off that easy. I'm following you until you eat something."

It feels good to stretch my legs. I can feel my body begging for more time. I'm already tired and the walk three floors up seems more like climbing a mountain. With Remy so close behind, I am less like the Wolverine and more like a sick puppy.

I flop across my bed. A nap would be good, but hunger is setting in, and I have no clue how long I was out from the accident, details I will have to catch up on after I eat. I get dressed, think about my boots, hoping they were still in the med bay somewhere, trying not to think they were unsalvageable. I grab the pillow that was Marie's. It still smells like she used to. Maybe I have to think about giving up on finding that girl; she may be gone. The woman fighting for her own life isn't going to fit the mold everyone else tried to place around her.

"You okay?"

I forget he is outside my door waiting for me. This time he leads, staying a couple of stairs in front. I think that if I did fall, I would crush his body like a twig, but the gesture was comforting. I'm usually covering everyone else; now someone is looking out for me.

Ororo takes one look at me at the kitchen door. Her shock at seeing me registers only in her eyes.

"Sit down, Logan, I'll fix you a plate. Coffee?"

"I'm fine-"

"No arguing, or I'll give you tofu bacon and bulgur wheat toast."

"Very funny, Storm." I sit and look straight ahead. All eyes are staring at me, all actions suspended, frozen for a brief moment. Milk's sliding down spoons, mouths hang slack jawed. Kids and their rumors, they travel like wildfire. I probably killed a few just by showing up. I have to think there are just as many to debunk about Rogue.

"Remy, was Hank still downstairs?" Ororo asks Remy.

"Yes, sleeping in a chair in the med bay. Snoring is more like it."

"I'll make sure Kitty moves him to the cot in his office. Moira is taking over for the afternoon." It's funny that they are together. As small as she is, she still has the Beast wrapped around her little finger.

"Logan, I see you are up and moving around. Good!" The professor is too cheerful for my current state. "I would like to meet with everyone who went the other day, including you Logan. I have some things I would like to discuss."

"We will meet you in your office." Remy's playing the part of the good boy.

"Take your time. Classes don't start for a bit longer."

Remy and Ororo's hovering is getting annoying. I'm not dead, or helpless. I haven't looked in the mirror lately, my face may to telling a different story. They both jump, when I stand to take care of my plate.

As I head out the door, Michael gives an innocent wave, as if he is relieved to see me. I remember in great detail, that what he said was right. I do not wish to see what that boy's nightmares tell him, what he sees for any of us. He may see how we all die. He may see how we all grieve and move on. He does not understand the longer he stays here, the more pain and suffering he will envision, the guilt he will carry, and none of it his own.

My two shadows and I make it to the professor's office. This time the door is open. He's looking out the window, apparently in deep thought, but he breaks away when we enter. Jubilee, Kurt, Bobby and Colossus aren't far behind.

"Professor, Kitty is still in the med bay. She won't be joining us."

"Thank you, Jubilee. I've called this meeting to explain all the information I have received about the incident at the bank. It does appear they were set up."

"Did they expect us to fish her out? Was it only set for Rogue?" Ororo inquired.

"There had to have been a leak somewhere, something that let Mystique know defense money was being transferred. After all the stings they had pulled, someone had connected the dots. They were going after mutant blood money. Logan, do you remember how many units there were the night you pulled out Rogue?" Colossus is always a step head.

A night I am trying to forget. "I think it was just local SWAT. Nobody looked like government. It was dark and my focus really wasn't on who, at the time."

Chuck continues, "The two must have been gaining too much confidence, or getting sloppy, but having them work as a pair allowed their movements to be traced, no matter how they disguised themselves. Mystique's work with the FBI and CIA during the siege in San Francisco allowed the government to completely understand her mutation. The slightest remnants of DNA would give away her cover."

"If they know of Mystique, do they know Rogue was with her? She took the cure. They must have info in some databank someone where on her?" Ice prick can't let her past die, can he? "I counted the holes she had. Her blood must have been spilled everywhere, like a bread crumb trail-"

"Shut it Bub! Were you willing to get her out of there? Four months ago, you were droppin' her like last week's garbage. YOU HAVE NO Right-"

"ALL of you, settle this instant!" I rarely have seen Chuck raise his voice like that. "We need to focus on whether they know she is alive and here. We are not here to judge her. Nothing is ever so purely black and white. Am I right, Robert?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbles, looking down at his feet. Like a little school boy.

"I will be tracking Mystique's movements for the time being. She knows Logan came for Rogue and I will assume, for now, that connection has led her to believe she is in our care. Mystique has as much reason to hide, as much to lose out of this as Rogue. I do not think she will let down her cover for quite a while. I still have a few friends that can do some digging for me. We must not act as if we know about or are connected in any way to these incidences."

"How is Rogue?" Jubilee looked to be holding back tears.

I wait for Chuck to answer that one. I can't put it into words. A brief lift of his eyebrow answered more for me than what was to follow. He didn't know, but he wouldn't lie.

"She is stable. Once Dr. McCoy allows, you can see her for yourself. For the rest of you, keep a vigilant eye on the grounds for anything out of the ordinary. While out on missions, watch every movement, with great care. We are always being watched."

Everyone else takes that as a cue to leave. At the moment, I don't have the energy to move. The weight on my bones has made gaining my strength back twice as hard.

"Logan, I'm glad you have stayed behind. I have a few questions for you, about Rogue."

"I'm not sure what I can tell you, Chuck. We didn't get into talking much." That's more loaded than I would like to admit.

"Did she tell you, or did she do anything that leads you to believe she's gained control of her mutation?"

"No, not really." All I could think about was the first time I found her, how fast she dropped me, how different it felt. It stung, not like the pull I felt before, like electricity being pulled from the core.

"Do you know how we found you?"

"Not at all, no." I fidget with the rips on my jeans. I really don't want to hear about it.

"The car was upside down, fallen from the cliff. You were on top of Rogue. Your bare arm was against her chest for quite some time. Dr. McCoy had seen some scar tissue in a scan, leading him to believe she had controlled her mutation before losing consciousness. If she had no control, with your weight and condition of the car, she would have had no way to pull away without taking your life in the process. She has blocked that part of her mind, but with her being so ill, I cannot uncover if this is permanent, or her way of controlling it."

Silence. We both know what that actually means. Because her skin is off, I have no way to help heal her. The one thing I can give her right now, the one thing to bring her back from the brink, is useless.

"Dr. McCoy has not given me much reason to hope, but I promise you, we are doing everything within our power to help her. She is still a member of this household." He's holding back. I can see guilt taking over, just like before, when he was apologizing to me for not being here. She fell, too, and no one was here to catch her.

"Have you spoken to Dr. McCoy?"

"Remy got me out this morning."

"Would you like me to walk with you? Kitty is the only one on the team that even has an understanding of her condition."

"No, I'm fine" There is a knock on the door and his class starts barging in anyway, grabbing chairs. And that's my cue to find my way out.

I'm sure if I'm ready to go back there yet. The last four months of my life have been hell, filling my head with other things to think about besides Rogue. The minute I drift away from what's in front of me, all my thoughts go directly to her. I promised to protect her, and I failed miserably. I should have been here to stop her from leaving in the first place. And after that, I shouldn't have let her walk away.

I come out of my daze in front of the door to the med bay. Sub-consciously, I was doing the right thing. I can no longer walk away. She dealt a hand and was playing me for a better life. I folded and walked away the first time. I can't do that again.

I make it past the doors, which are a lot harder to cross. I stare down at the floor until Hank notices the statue I've become.

"Logan, you slipped away before I could give you a thorough exam."

"And you're supposed to be sleeping-" I think I actually was trying to smile.

"Did Ororo send you down here? Now sit down, and let me do my job, so you can do yours."

He said it in such a way that I could almost take him for a mad scientist, with plans far beyond the obvious. "I'm fine. I can walk, talk and still manage to piss a few people off."

"Just a minute….." he holds a small light directly into my eyes, and they ache from the abruptness of it. "Have you been seeing any hallows, blurriness…"

"NO! I told you I'm fine…"

"Very well. You had a grade 3 concussion, something you can still suffer from, even with the adamantium around your skull. Your brain is still floating around just like everyone else's. You seem to be over the worst of it. If you weren't, you would still be dazed and confused, but your light sensitivity should wane in a couple of days at the most."

"How is she?"

He takes a deep breath in, looks my way. I'm not sure if he's trying to read me, deciding how much of the truth he wants to share. Finally, he breathes out, heavily. He's going to tell it straight. Good choice.

"I will be deeply honest. Her spinal fractures are the least of my worries at the moment. Her left lung collapsed, which we have been able to alleviate, from the bullet wound more so than the accident. Her spleen was ruptured. I had to remove it, or she would have bled out. The right leg we had to set with pins. Her circulation is improving to her toes which is actually good news…"

We walk closer to her bedside. I stop listening, words fade to the background. She looks so fragile, her skin is grey where it isn't bruised. Her lips are cracked. Her eye sockets deeply stained. Tubes drip fluids into her arms from bags hanging off poles. Her neck is in a collar. She's breathing through a tube in a hole in her throat, in a rhythm set by another machine. Small clusters of stitches cover what I can see of her arms and a few spots on her face, cuts from the glass, I assume. Her legs are covered in a light blanket. I can't see the pins Hank was referring to before, something about infection...

"….she's made it this far. I had to sedate her when she woke up briefly. This will be too much of a shock at first, if she is not somewhat healed from her prior surgery."

"She woke up? Did she say anything?"

"She can't, not until her lungs are stabilized and her esophagus is more healed. Then we can remove her trach. We will have to think about another surgery, later on, to stabilize her neck, once we see how she progresses."

There is a long silence between us, then he pulls up a chair next to her bed.

"You can stay with her, for a while. Moira will be coming down shortly. I'll be over in the office, if you need anything."

He walks away as I try to remember why I am standing until my legs were giving out on their own. The only thing I didn't do for Rogue was kill her. That accident was my fault. No one can tell me otherwise. No one ever talks about how I had to kill Jean, because she was already dead, to the Phoenix. I was saving her. I was supposed to save Rogue, and she is all but dead because I failed her.

I hesitate to touch her, but her hand laying on the bed, even with the needles and tape, looks to be asking to be held. I hover over her. No heat is coming off her. I lower my hand gently and feel how soft her skin is, not dangerous. Silky and velvet at the same time. Her hand is so small compared to mine. She still has polish on her nails. It's ironic; they seem so delicate, but I know she has done some deadly things. I have too, because of her. She was terrified of me. I saw it on her face. She saw the beast, the one thing I was trying to never let her see. I was ferocious, brutal, swift. But the animal was protecting her, saving her, the only way it knew how. I could smell the fear, adrenalin, through everything, gunfire, blood, sweat. She has parts of me, the Wolverine, the beast in her head. She had to understand. I think seeing it for the first time, how deadly I can be, unforgiving, it wasn't just a name on dog tags, but real. She was scared, the hesitation, then pulling away, the complete opposite from the girl running to meet me at the door, her arms around my neck, my hands around her waist, wanting so much more. I remember her asking me to stay, the look in her eyes, the nightmares of my life playing out in her head. I couldn't, I wasn't ready to be part of something bigger. It was still someone else's dream. But I wouldn't let them save her; I had to be the one to do it. I let her slip through my fingers once. I had to be the one to bring her back home. I wasn't brave. I wasn't brave enough to stay.

"Logan, wake up." A hand is shaking my shoulder, "Logan, I need to change some bandages. You can come back in a few hours." I lift my head and feel the dampness on her hand. I was still holding it. My face was hot.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that." God, I feel so stupid. Moira smiles. I think she can tell. It will be our secret.

"It's okay, the professor was hoping you would stay around, if she wakes up." She busies herself, writing down numbers, getting her tray ready with gauze, tape, scissors.

My feet carry me out. I float through the halls, all sounds, echoes, whispers, all are gone. I don't let myself hear them.

Moira's words keep replaying in my head. "If", there isn't another way, she will. She has to; I deserve it. I killed for her, she should at least have the decency to be awake to know what I did for her. If. Like she's walking on top of the blade of a sword, unaware of how thin the line is that she has to hold to.

The snap of my bedroom door shutting brings me back to reality. I lay down to sleep, even if only for a while. The afternoon sessions are going. The grounds are quiet. The draft from the cracked open window smells of pine, dried leaves, and cold. I can't think of a better way to fall asleep.

_They engaged their guns, ready to fire. Soldiers, in their field camo, me against a pole. I was staring down the barrels of an M16. I didn't feel fear. I raise my head towards the beating sun, blistering heat. A guard off to my left was reading off the charge, and I was leaning into the bindings around my wrists. Something caught the corner of my eye. It was a girl, walking from behind the firing line. I could feel my heart racing. It couldn't be her; she's not supposed to be here. My arms were tied. I couldn't let out the claws to cut the ropes, they wouldn't respond._

_"Marie, no—" but she didn't listen. She was running, happy to see me, throwing her duffle bag down, tossing down her green coat, running to throw her arms around me. "Rogue, no, you're gonna get killed! Marie, listen to me!"_

_They couldn't see her. The guard called the arms to ready. They were going to shoot through her. She is going to die because of me._

_"No, you have to stop! Marie, MARIE! You need to get out of here!" No matter how much I pulled, the ropes were changing to metal, I couldn't break free from them. She was just a few feet from me. I heard the guns fire, bullets went through her, her blood splattered against my face. I saw it dripping from my chest. "Noooooooooo" She froze, reaching for me, but I couldn't reach back. I felt her hand brush my chest, her eyes large, becoming sad._

_"I'm sorry Logan—" and something pulls her back, disappearing, her arm still stretched to reach for me. Smoke wafting in as tall as the guards. My bindings finally let loose. I can't find her through the smoke. I pop my claws, going after the soldiers, still primed to shoot. I take a bullet to my left shoulder. I feel a kidney jab from the butt of a gun. I am fast enough to grab it, and pull the soldier forward. I force both my hands through his stomach, watch him slide lifelessly to my feet. I feel more bullets penetrate my leg. I see the shadow of another gunman. I thrust forward, pulling his shoulders down, across my bent leg with one hand, my other going for the kill in the upper chest. With a quick glance, I look at his face, but it's not a soldiers face, it's Marie._

_My fingers drenched in her blood, her body already cold. I killed her. How could I have done that? I was trying to protect her, and I killed her._

_"AWWWWwwwww-" but the smoke fades, it becomes as dark as night. I look down to her, but she has fallen. I reach forward to grab her, and only grab air._

I feel the cold shock me awake, my body covered in sweat, my blankets torn to pieces. I try to control my breathing. I need to slow it down. I reach for the light to turn it on. That centers me, being in my room, to focus on where I really am. I am safe. I am home.

It's completely black outside. I must have slept for hours. I change out of the wet clothes, and head down to the med bay.

I rush down the directionless halls, feeling like I've missed something important. The elevator isn't fast enough, the sliding doors barely keep pace as I dive through them. When I get there, nothing has changed. Marie is still frozen in the same position. Hank is in the office, milling over papers. The chair is now on the other side of the room. I don't move it closer. Some part of me is still afraid to be that close to her. That's the part that always tells me to run, tells me alone is better.

I listen to the sounds of the machines keeping her alive. Her heart is steady and slow. I watch her chest rise and fall with unnatural rhythm. I smelled for the first time a bit of her through all the sterility of the room.

Hank comes in to change a bag on a pole, connecting it to the tubes draining into her arm. He glances my way with a nod, not saying anything. I don't know what else to do but sit and watch her. It's what I always did, when we talked. She did all the talking; I always listened. I would never admit it but I sometimes I would drift away, taking in just the sound of her voice, the change in how she smelled from season to season, strawberries for summer, vanilla and spice in the winter. Feeling the sadness flow off of her, or how the tone changed when she was happy. Most of the time, she had already made up her mind, but I think sometimes, she needed to hear that whatever it was, she would be ok, she had a place to land when the weather changed.

Something pulls me out of my daze, a gasp. I look her way, not expecting to see her eyes fixed on me. Her eye lids look heavy. She can barely keep them open, I rush to her, knowing this time may be the only chance.

"Turn your skin on." She uses everything she has to keep her eyes locked on mine, I can smell fear filling the room. "Whatever you did, undo it."

I'm gripping her hand so hard, I could swear I feel a crack in her knuckle. I can't panic, I have always been able to help her, but nothing's working. "Marie, turn it on!" She had to turn it off somehow, so she has to bring it back. She has no idea how much I need for her to bring it back. My hand starts shaking. I can feel my throat tighten. I look back down at her face, and she's trying to smile at me, I don't know what to do. Jean smiled the same way the last time I saw her alive. Marie can't leave me like Jean did.

"Kid, listen to me." I move a bit of hair out of her face, feeling the softness of her skin. Something comes over her, fear, panic, letting go of hope. Tears start rolling down her cheeks. I feel the coolness of wet covering mine. Sounds are blaring suddenly. I can't let go of her hand. I can't let it go. It isn't supposed to go like this

"HANK, get in here!" He was already running in our direction, with force and determination.

"Logan you have to step back. Moira, get the cart!" He pulls the hose off her neck, pushing me out of the way, I feel her hand slide out of mine. I'm not ready to let go. Moira starts to hand pump air into her chest. Hank plunges syringes of God only knows what into her veins.

"Rogue, I've given you a sedative, but I want you to listen carefully to me. I know you can still hear me. You were in an accident. It damaged your spine. You cannot breathe without assistance. You have swelling constricting blood flow to your spinal cord, your back is shattered in multiple places, Rogue, try your best to relax, find a place in your mind…."

"Dr. McCoy!" The professor and Hank's eyes met briefly. A pause. They were silently sharing a conversation I wasn't supposed to hear.

"I'm getting resistance!" Moira shot a hard look to Hank. She stopped pumping.

"What's going on? Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!" More carts and trays get pulled what seems like nowhere. The professor is at her head, his eyes closed, oblivious to the flurry going on around him, his hands hovering over her temples.

Kitty comes out of thin air, pulling down the blanket, lifting the gown to give access to her chest. I see Hank grab a scalpel, cutting into her, then forcing a tube into her side.

"Try it now. Did it re-inflate?"

"It's better. Kitty what's her oxygen level?"

"Only 69…She's getting dusky..." The heart monitor starts to speed up, the screen flashing. "She's in V-Fib…" Moira pushes one thing out of the way, and pulls up another, then she runs to the other side of the bed. Marie's hand dangles over the side. I can't help but reach out for it.

"Logan, talk to her… " What the fuck am I supposed to say? She's really cold.

"Tell me something!"

Hanks eyes meet mine for a quick second, "Her lung collapsed. Her heart is under a lot of stress. You need to let go of her hand NOW!" Kitty squirted gel onto the paddles in his hands. "Charge!"

Everyone, even me, takes a step back. Her body moves in shock.

"Epinephrine?"

"Yes!"

Nothing.

"Charge!" Again, everyone stops. Kitty takes over for Moira, begins compressing Marie's chest.

"Chuck, do you have her? Does she want to try? Come on Marie! I won't let you leave. Hank, fuckin' DO something!"

"Charge...Clear!" Nothing, just a long whine from the machine.

The professor looks up. Marie's eyes crack open a bit as well, I grab her arm out of desperation.

"NOW!"

I don't know what that means, until I feel the pull, slowly, like a tingle. Then, like an out of control train, it starts to take over.

""Take it." I won't let you let go, "Take it!" I feel myself hit the floor. All the blaring sounds fade, but I won't let go.


	15. Chapter 15

Finding a Lost Key

Two days. I lost another two whole days spent in the med lab, out cold, a recurring guest within the ever-so-familiar steel walls. The stillness and peace there are calming to me, and I hope to the other occupant sleeping at the other end of the room.

Relaxed and resting, she looks better now, the color back in her lips, a bright contrast to the natural ivory glow of her face. I lost myself watching her breathe, the sweetness that calls me to her reaching deep within, becoming my drug. Her hands rest above the covers, looking delicate again, almost angelic, in the dim light.

I had touched her, held her hand, felt the softness of her face, her skin against mine, how sweet it was, how deadly it could be now. I wanted all of her, every crook and crevice, every flaw, every scar. But I have to settle for those few moments, never knowing if she felt me back, my hand against hers. I have no idea how much more of me she has, the nightmares, the anger, the regret. I can believe she will hate how much she understands of my own inner struggle, two separate parts never meshing as one whole being.

"You know, gazing from afar is not the most effective way of sharing one's feelings. It's great to see you up and about." Xavier's approach is guarded, contradictory to his demeanor. I hadn't heard the doors open or his entrance through them. It crosses my mind that he had been waiting for me to wake up.

"Don't you ever knock?" Deflecting, I know, but I suddenly feel naked, exposed. How much had he seen? Did he wander through my mind, seeing if my intensions for saving Marie were selfish? It's hard for me to trust anyone, let alone a path.

"Dr. McTaggart said she will make a full recovery. She will be right as rain. I hope that brings comfort to you. I know full well what it took to bring her home."

"We'll see." I turn my back to him, getting off the bed, hoping he gets that I really don't want to talk anymore.

"The battle is won, but the war for Rogue is not over. She is safe, but will she want to stay?" A long pause. I guess he's waiting for me to answer, but I don't give in. "As you know, everyone in this house will be willing to help her rebuild her life if she is eager to do so. But my concern is what your intensions are now that she is here."

"That will depend on her, on what she wants to do. No one asked her the first time. And I'm no shining beacon of guiding light, so don't expect me to be the one to do it!" I hadn't expected to be so angry. The sound of my voice echoing catches me off-guard and I suddenly realize I could have disturbed Marie. I wasn't ready to see her, to talk to her at that point, and the Professor even hinting at it is too much to handle.

"I am having her moved to her old room. She is out of danger, and waking up here may make her feel hostile, trapped."

"Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. I hope it makes everyone feel better..." The urge to run never reared its head so strongly. The fight or flight never had me running, but this was turning into a mental game, a battle of wills.

My confrontational exit, I hope leaves him guessing, but I recognize it for what it was, a pathetic attempt at covering my own disgust at allowing anyone to see me lose control. I question how much I would have done if it were Kitty, or Jubes instead of Rogue. I did nothing to corral Pyro, so why did I go to such lengths with her?

The danger room is occupied, so the next best place to clear my head is out on the grounds with a walk through the dense brush, the coolness of the dry northern air chilling my lungs, the grey sky blocking any hint of sun. The leaves had long ago fallen from the trees, their constant sound under my feet a reminder of winter's inevitable approach. Pines providing the only cover, and the damp earth filling my nose, reminding me that I had allowed this state of being to control me. The Wolverine knows this place, knows how to control this space, and find safety in it. Even in this existence, parts of me would be satisfied, if this would be what I settled for, to call a living. The shadow of the mansion, more than a mile back, the brick and mortar creating a different life, an unnatural warmth, protecting, unchanging, the glazed windows reflecting back the wild. I had lived that life and could find balance within it. Or is that a lie, one that I am good at living?

An eerie silence creeps within the woods. My own presence permeates the air. I hear the scurry of other creatures fleeing. Sensing the animal rising, they know to run. And yet one creature I so dearly want to run toward me, unaware of the danger or blindly accepting it, either of which I managed to deflect. But who is more the fool?

I turn back toward the mansion, my intentions still unclear. Do I return, go back to being the teacher others believe I am, or is this my moment to break away, to continue on my never-ending journey? Part of my head is still weighing my options when I realize I've made it all the way to the second floor of the mansion, where a sudden change in direction yanks me out of my fucked up stupor.

"We are going out." Remy's determination is unwavering, never giving me the chance to object. I wrestle my arm out of his grip, bucking my shoulders in protest.

"No, you're not backing out, we are going out. I'm sick and tired of watching you wallow in your own fucking self-pity, get all bent out of shape over whatever happen or didn't happen. And that fucking wall you hide behind? It's _fini, mon ami, fini!_ I'm raising hell, I'm getting laid, and I don't care if I have to drag you with me. Well, perhaps not together in that order, but you get the idea, n'est pas?"

"Are you done? Because all I really want is a beer, from the fridge, and you to fucking get out of my way!" Somehow I knew I wasn't going to get away with that one.

"Fine, you take a bar stool, and Remy gets all the ladies, but you're coming. The bikes are ready." Without missing a step, he throws keys at my face, making me catch them with a flinch as he steps nimbly out of my arm's reach. Damn if he hasn't just talked me into doing more than I ever would have on my own. A long bike ride might be the perfect antidote to my self-induced struggle.

The Cajun never disappoints. The joint we land in has all his favorite elements – underground, smoke-filled, dimly lit aura. Tables covered in cards and chips, easy banter, mutants and mutant-friendly without the perfume of fear, the roar of raucous laughter over a round of shots. Remy's centered at a table with a lady on either side. I settle at the bar as promised, light a cigar, and hope the constant barrage of beers might just pound my mood into something resembling enjoyment.

"Hey, Flannel!" Like a dart shot directly into my ear. She's close enough for her hot breath to raise the hairs on the back of my neck. "Did you come alone?"

I knew who she was. I'd noticed her noticing me when we walked in. How could I not? A mutant with tigress-like features, large eyes, slightly triangulated nose, canines barely exposed. It wouldn't surprise me if she had a tail. She wore a leather choker, like a collar, maybe poking fun at her own appearance? I wasn't sure, but she didn't leave much to the imagination.

"I can tell who's a real animal, when see I see one. You aren't the only one with enhanced senses you know. I could make you purrr." I feel her hardened nail trace the outside of my shoulder. I buck back at her advances. She doesn't exactly look shocked by my reaction. "Or not. Your loss. Why would you come here, if not for a little fun?"

I let a rumble fill my chest. She gets the message and moves on, leaving a trail of arousal that made it hard to concentrate on anything but her. I'm guessing she enjoyed leaving me wondering if it was truly my loss. Boo-hoo for me. Still, I knew she'd have no trouble finding a sucker to get her fill.

I glance Remy's way, watching him rake the chips to his favor, his lady friends stacking them for him, while he tosses back more whiskey. A sneer of disgust comes across his face, his eyes glowing red and I know right away somebody is going down. I follow his gaze and catch sight of what Remy is staring down – a small figure of a man with the scent of a rat and twitchy hands seated across from the Cajun. Guess he must have pulled a fast one on Remy once upon a time. Nobody gets away with that. Remy always wins. I can tell he's charging the cards, masking his power with tricks that have his girls squealing with delight. I need to diffuse this quick or everybody's night will be shot to hell.

Remy knows I'm onto him. He sees me of me out of the corner of his eye, his fan of cards suspended in mid air, ready to fire them off. His expression gives nothing away, but he hesitates – one heartbeat, then two, and then stacks the cards back on the table. If anyone but me sees the red glow surrounding the deck, they never let on, but we're not out of the woods yet.

"I think your game needs a fresh buy-in. Don't you think so, Remy? I think it's time for the rat to go find another place to..."

"Ladies, I need another glass of this sweet bourbon, and could you bring my friend here a fine whiskey? Merci..." He pauses, waits for them to leave. They pout, disappointed at being dismissed, but so eager to please. "Logan, I think it is time to show this rat what we do to people who cheat."

"I think we let this rat go with a warning to never show his face here again," I reply, crouching now right at the rat's ear, whispering with a guttural rumble, "...or I'll show him what wild animals do with small rodents." I slide just one claw out by his other ear, knowing he can hear the metal-on-metal whisper as the blade leaves its sheath. He's frozen for a moment with fear, except for his eyes, which dart furiously around the room, seeking an escape route. Rats don't need much room to run, so the second I drop my hand he ducks out of the chair and scurries away, disappearing in the crowd. Fine by me, but Remy looks less than thrilled, until his girls return with our drinks. His eyes lose the red shine and his hand finally leaves the deck.

"Sit, you look like you should be a bouncer for this place." The blond of the pair puts a glass in front of me, while Remy grabs her back to his shoulder, to occupy his free hand, the brunette filling his other. "I sent Deirdre to entertain you. You did not find her to your taste?"

"You of all people should know I didn't come here to-"

"What? Lose yourself for a little while? Remember what's it's like to have a little fun? Ladies, this man suffers from a broken heart, only he doesn't like to admit he actually has one." A sly smile crosses his face as he nibbles at the neck of the blonde, who closes her eyes in pure enjoyment. The brunette has me in her sights, staring deeply at me, sipping from her glass as if reading the thoughts of the Wolverine, willing to satisfy him, even if it were deadly.

I down the glass, looking away from the pair of eyes eating away at my resolve, the scent of the room suddenly making me sick. The night and my need to be part of it have begun to wear thin. The once perfect atmosphere now felt excessive, too much drunkenness, too much sex, too much of everything settling into my lungs. I felt like I was drowning. Remy had been right, painfully truthful, and no amount of lust and booze would shut off the constant barrage of shit raking my brain.

"Look, thanks for getting me out, but I'm going to head back…"

"All right, fair enough. I can't have fun while watching you wallow. It's depressing for everybody. Bonsoir, mesdames. Bientot, mes chers…Soon, I promise..."

I head out to my bike while he finishes with the girls, leaves them wanting more, as usual. The weight of the day pulls any energy away from my body, making me forget what I had accomplished, what I was healing from. Remy's bike roars to life before I even notice he's behind me. It's unsettling to realize I'd so thoroughly shut myself off to my surroundings, an alley full of people noisily going about their evening.

"Hey, we are grabbing food before we cross the bridge. I know a great place for sushi." He's in front of me before I can get my hands on the grips. No time to protest; I think he liked it that way. He'd found a way to lead around the Wolverine, with a collar made of exhaustion and melancholy.

The scent surrounding the Japanese restaurant seems familiar. I notice the adrenalin rush, but have no idea what's got me all worked up. It isn't fear, or aggression. That much I know. We sit at the bar and Remy orders drinks. Sake in hand, I watch Remy scan the menu choices, my mind floating in constant question. Why does this feel so familiar?

"Nice work with chop sticks, man, never had you pegged for such a skill. Can skewer the tuna with one hand, slice and dice, and eat elegantly with hand-chiseled chopsticks, all in less than a minute. You are a man of mystery." Remy's look of awe is unnecessary and unappreciated.

"Do you want me to add you as a side dish?" I actually hadn't noticed anything that I was doing, or how I was doing it. That eerie feeling of familiarity is still ghosting in the back of my mind. The flavors, the customs, even the din of Japanese conversation going on around me bring a sense of…of belonging…of peace. Something snaps in my head and memories rush forward…crisp, cool air, magnolias, different oceans, mountains, snow…crimson snow, blood, hate, rage. Sweat beads on my forehead as the conflicting images crowd my mind. My hands shake with the uncertainty of it all as the Wolverine rages in the cage I'm so desperately trying to hold him in.

"James Howlette !" a voice shouts from behind me. I turn to find a man more in silhouette, but sweating in excitement, adrenalin coursing through him. "You're James Howlette!" he shouts gain, almost grabbing my arm.

"I think you got the wrong guy." I look at Remy who is also surprised at this man's eagerness to approach me.

"No, you ARE James Howlette!" His accent thickening with his insistence, he turns me with shocking strength on the barstool. I hear metal unsheathing, my instincts taking over.

Remy grabs my shoulder, staring me down, making sure I understand. "Logan, no, not here."

_"Kuzuri!"*_

*Japanese for 'Wolverine'.


End file.
